


A Merrier Place

by starlightwalking



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Family, Gen, Romance, starts out angsty but it's a happy story I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 34,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4338368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If more people valued home above gold the world would be a merrier place." My own take on a BOTFA fix-it AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Battle Renewed

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first chapter of my BOTFA fix-it AU, "A Merrier Place". I'm not quite sure how long it will be, but probably around twenty chapters is my estimate, maybe a little less. I'll probably update about once a week or so, though that is not a guarantee.  
> This fic is primarily focused on the Durins, but also features POVs from Dwalin, Bilbo, and Tauriel. It outlines how the Durins survived, recovered, and built their new lives. This is also a Tauriel-positive fic. If you don't like her, that's fine, but this probably isn't the fic for you.  
> Please read and comment! Thank you!

**Part One: Life and Death  
** **Chapter One: Battle Renewed**

* * *

"Go!" Fíli cried out, held aloft by Azog. The pale orc laughed and spat out what sounded like a malevolent threat to Thorin in his awful orc language, standing below and white as the ice beneath his feet.

Bilbo was panicked. He took quick, shallow breaths, his gaze locked on the horrific scene above. No—not Fíli! Azog was about to kill him, he had to save him, he had to do something he had to  _do_  something, he had to—

Bilbo tore his eyes away from Azog, who lifted his sword prosthetic and prepared to run it through Fíli's midsection. The hobbit saw a large rock, about the size of his fist, and snatched it up.

"Run!" Fíli shouted, and as Bilbo looked up, he saw a fierceness in the young dwarf's eyes that rivaled even Thorin's lust-filled gaze from when he was still infatuated with dragonsickness and a desire for the Arkenstone. Fíli looked directly at Thorin, who stared back helplessly.

Knowing it wouldn't help, knowing that it was futile, but still full of a last, desperate hope, Bilbo threw his rock.

It soared through the air, up and up and up. Bilbo's breath caught as it stopped rising and fell, right onto Azog's false arm.

The blade jerked away from its intended target, but only slightly, stabbing Fíli in the side nonetheless. Bilbo closed his eyes in despair as the pale orc roared in anger, pulling his blade out of the blond dwarf and tossing Fíli's body down to the ground far below.

Bilbo held back a sob of grief. Fíli was dead, despite his efforts to save the young dwarf.

Then he heard a roar of grief and rage. Bilbo jerked his head up, staring in shock at the source of the awful sound.

It was Kíli, standing in an opening beneath the tower. He had watched his brother's limp, dead body fall to the ground, and his face was now terrible to behold. Bilbo watched in horror as Kíli leaped down and ran toward the approaching orcs.

"Kíli!" Thorin bellowed, trying to stop him, but the young dwarf did not listen. He was gone, and now Azog's other orcs approached.

Bilbo took a deep breath and hefted Sting his sword, preparing for the coming attack. Fíli was dead, but he was alive, and there was still a battle to fight.

* * *

Tauriel reached Ravenhill and immediately began to fight her way through the swarm of orcs. She was looking for Kíli. She immediately regretted the loss of her bow, broken by King Thranduil. She still burned with fury toward him, but he intimidated her. She could not stand up against him.

Tauriel brought down orc after orc, wielding knives and a short sword. Ravenhill's ground was icy and treacherous, but she whirled and fought expertly, light and nimble on her feet.

She killed the orc she was fighting and rushed out into the open space, gasping for air. She could hear fighting above her, and a familiar cry, one of rage mingled with grief.

_Kíli_ , she thought. It had to be him.

"Kíli!" she cried out, yearning for him to call back. "Kíli!"

Out of the tunnel nearby there was a roar, and Tauriel turned to see Bolg, spawn of Azog the Defiler, running toward her. Too late, she drew her daggers, but the orc jumped her from behind. She twisted out of his grip, hitting him with the hilt of her dagger, but he twisted her arm and disarmed her after only a few strokes.

Bolg threw a few punches at her, but she dodged them nimbly. Her heart pounded, and she admitted she was afraid: this was no ordinary orc. He was well trained.

He gripped her wrist and glared at her, his eyes full of malice. He raised his fist and hit her on the head, grabbing her by the throat before she fell to the ground. Panic flared in her mind: was he about to beat her? Was she about to die?

No. Her training kicked in and she kicked her feet up, swinging herself up and over Bolg's shoulders.

He realized what she was doing and threw her aside. She crumpled to the ground and he advanced on her. Fear welled up inside of Tauriel, and she knew she was about to die.

Then she heard Kíli's shout.

He came in running, his sword drawn, straight toward Bolg. Tauriel's hopes rose, but now she feared not only for herself, but for Kíli as well. He attacked the orc, and Tauriel, though her body hurt and screamed for a respite, scrambled to her knees, grabbing her weapon and joining Kíli in the fight.

She was still unsteady on her feet after her defeat. Bolg had grabbed Kíli and held him in the air. Tauriel ran toward the orc, rage in her heart. "Kíli!" she called out.

He was turning blue from lack of air. Bolg threw him to the ground, releasing his grip on Kíli's throat, and turned to face the trembling Tauriel, who still advanced on the orc, albeit slowly.

He smirked at her, then raised his mace, about to drive it into Kíli's frail body.

" _No_!" Tauriel shouted, flinging her dagger into the air. It embedded itself in Bolg's arm, and the orc howled in rage, dropping his weapon. Tauriel watched in horror as the mace dropped onto Kíli's stomach, cutting it open. He let out a yell of pain.

Tauriel resisted the urge to run to help him—she still had an orc to fight. Bolg growled and turned toward her, balling his fists. Tauriel reached for her second weapon, a short sword still undrawn. She drew it now, ready to fight to the death against this great and powerful orc.

There was a noise of commotion over her head, and she saw Legolas leap down.

"Legolas! Help me!" she cried out, rushing the orc, cutting her blade along his flesh and the metal embedded in his skin.

Legolas only grunted, pulling out his daggers. He had no arrows left, she noticed. Together they descended upon Bolg, making nicks in his half-armored body but not really doing him any harm.

Bolg roared in rage, punching Legolas out of his way with one huge fist. The blonde-haired elf went flying, hitting the wall. He groaned, but managed to pick himself up from the ground.

"Tauriel..." a weak voice said from behind. It was Kíli. Tauriel whipped her head around, staring at him as Legolas once again launched himself at Bolg.

"Am..." the dwarf whispered. " _Amrâ...amrâlimê_." There it was, that word again, the word in the Dwarvish language that sent chills up her spine and warmed her heart though she didn't know it's true meaning.

Kíli's breath caught, and his eyes closed. Tauriel took a step toward him, but Legolas shouting her name behind her forced her to turn around and rejoin the fight, though tears were in her eyes.

A fury burned in her chest, rage that warmed this cold, snowy rock. She was fire, she was rage, she was revenge. As Legolas kept Bolg busy, Tauriel shouted, "I'm coming!"

She turned and raced not toward Bolg but up the stairs, to the top of the building under which Legolas and the pale orc's spawn fought. She took a deep breath and braced herself, jumping recklessly back down and landing on Bolg's shoulders, her short sword raised high over her head. She yelled curses in Sindarin, then drove the blade deep into Bolg's skull.

The orc grunted, his eyes rolling up into his head. Legolas grinned up at her, taking a step back as Bolg fell to the ground and she jumped off his shoulders.

She landed beside Legolas, breathing heavily. He nodded at her. "Good job, Tauriel." He glanced up. "There is still a battle left to fight. We must help Oakenshield."

"Kíli..." she whispered, turning to face him. He was dead. Sorrow and horror welled up in her chest and tears slipped from her eyes.

"Tauriel, we must fight now," Legolas urged. "The time to grieve will come. I..." He took a deep breath. "I am sorry for your loss. The dwarf was...worthy. But we must  _go_."

"Yes," she whispered. "We must fight." She tried to get a handle on her emotions, straightening her back and lifting her head. She walked over to Bolg's carcass and pulled her sword out of his skull.

Tauriel took off her quiver and handed it to Legolas. "Here. Thranduil broke my bow, and you're out of arrows. Take it."

He nodded and accepted the gift, in turn giving her one of his daggers. The two elves then raced up to the ground above, ready to fight some more.


	2. Hope Reborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! It's longer than I expected. Originally, it started right before Azog's death, but I decided it needed more, so I added another two thousand words yesterday, with Thorin's POV of the entire fight. I hope you like it! :)

**Part One: Life and Death  
** **Chapter Two: Hope Reborn**

* * *

Thorin fought on, separated from Bilbo and Dwalin. His two friends were nowhere to be seen, but that was the last of his worries right now—he had lost his sword and was about to be pushed off Ravenhill by one of Azog's bodyguards.

As panic filled him and the orc approached, he glanced around him. Far off in the distance, he saw two elves approaching him, but they were too far away to be any help to him now.

The orc raised his weapon, his face twisted in a hideous expression of glee, and Thorin inched backwards, half his body hanging over the edge of the cliff. He was so afraid of dying here, now, before he had avenged Fíli's death by killing Azog, but there seemed to be no way out. He closed his eyes and prepared for death.

Before it came, he heard the whizz of an arrow shooting through the air, then the sharp  _plunk_  of it hitting its target. His eyes flew open in surprise as he saw the arrow in question sticking through the attacking orc's head. He looked up, then rolled over as the orc, now dead, fell to his knees, then off the cliff.

Gasping for air, he scrambled to his feet and looked around for his savior. It was the blond elf, Thranduil's son, with his another arrow set to the string of his bow and pointing straight at him. Behind him was the red-haired elfmaid, the captain of Thranduil's guard. Her quiver was empty, but she carried a bloodied blade.

"Oakenshield," the prince said shortly, lowering his bow. "So you have come to your senses."

He dipped his head in acknowledgement, burning with a mixture of shame and anger and trying to seem dignified. "Yes. Now I fight."

"Where is your weapon?" the elf asked. Thorin glanced behind him to the red-haired captain. Her cheeks were tearstained, and she didn't meet his gaze.

"It fell," he answered hoarsely. "And I have no other, since you took Orcrist from me back in your forest."

The blond prince pursed his lips, then drew the sword in question in a flash. Spinning it around, he handed it hilt-first to Thorin.

In surprise, the dwarf king took the offered blade. He grunted in half-thanks, though he felt shame that he needed these elves help at all.

"You must still fight Azog," the elf said with a shrug. "He waits for you in the mist, I believe. Do you wish our assistance?"

"No," Thorin growled, looking over to the outline of his mortal foe. "I will kill him alone."

"Oakenshield!" the red-haired she-elf burst out. "Oakenshield...your nephew is dead." He looked up in shock to meet her gaze. Fresh tears ran from her eyes.

"I saw Fíli fall myself," he answered her, fear creeping back into his mind. Did she mean Fíli, or—? No, Kíli  _had_ to have survived.

"No," the elf said, shaking her head. "Kíli."

Thorin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing himself a moment to grieve. Fíli was dead, and now he knew Kíli was, too. He could scarcely believe it, and still half-believed they would spring out from behind a rock and help him attack Azog. His sister Dís, their mother, would mourn for the rest of her life. Kíli had fallen, the youngster with so much life in him...dead.

"How did this happen?" he asked. He needed to know.

"He fell fighting Bolg," the red-haired elf said, her voice shaking. "Saving—saving me."

Thorin gripped Orcrist's hilt tighter. "Where is this Bolg?"

"We slew him," the prince added.

"We avenged Kíli," the other elf said at the same time.

Thorin nodded, and looked up. "And I will avenge Fíli. Go, elves. Fight somewhere else. I have unfinished business with Azog."

He marched forward into the mist, lifting his blade. The pale orc's outline became clearer, until he could see every detail on his scarred, ugly face. Azog smiled, his face contorting, as a horn blew in the distance. The noises of the battle below raged on, but Thorin focused only on his enemy.

Suddenly, Azog rushed forward with a shout, dragging a large rock behind him attached to a chain. He lifted it up as he approached, swinging toward Thorin.

Thorin ducked as it swung over his head twice. He scrambled backward as Azog swung a third time, this time barely missing his stomach. Azog continued to approach, swinging his rock over Thorin's head again.

Thorin quickly scrambled to the pale orc's left, then darted around behind him. He swung Orcrist, going for Azog's arm, but the orc parried his blow with the blade embedded into the stump of his arm. He turned around and swung the rock at him again, and Thorin darted backward, breathing hard as he watched the impact of the rock crack the ice beneath their feet.

Thorin danced around, struggling to regain his balance. As he did, Azog swung at him again, hitting the ice once more. Further cracks appeared on its surface, and Thorin began to feel uneasy. What if the ice broke? What if he fell into the freezing water in the river and tumbled underneath the ice and over the waterfall?

As the ice continued to crack and creak, Thorin backed away to safer ground. Azog followed him, snarling. He lifted the rock once more and slammed it down at Thorin's feet.

The ice gave way. Now they were standing on a frozen chunk, separated from the rest of the frozen water. Azog swung the rock again, and Thorin ducked to avoid a blow. The Defiler swung his weapon again, this time so low to the ground that he had to fling himself down on his belly to avoid it. He groaned as he scrambled to his feet.

Azog swung it again, and Thorin stepped back to avoid it. This time, one of his feet slipped into the water, and he went down. He quickly pulled it out and pushed himself back up, only to be knocked backwards as Azog's rock swung his feet out from under him.

The pale orc swung it again, aiming for his face, and Thorin rolled to the side. As the rock made contact with the already frail ice, it continued to crack into smaller and smaller pieces. He rolled over and got to his knees, before rolling over again to avoid another attack—and again, and again.

At last he saw an opening, and he darted forward, cutting along Azog's legs with his blade. Azog stumbled and lurched forward, giving Thorin enough time to slide around him and get to his feet behind him. Azog whirled around and swung his weapon again, harder this time and more erratic, and Thorin stepped back. This time the rock was stuck, embedded in the ice, and as Azog tried in vain to yank it back out, an idea occurred to him.

Azog stepped forward, swinging at him with his blade arm, but Thorin dodged the blow. He stepped back, his balance a little unstable, and stood firm again.

Suddenly, Azog stopped, looking up, fear tinging his icy blue gaze. Thorin only stared at him in confusion, until he saw the giant eagles swoop down overhead, heading toward Bolg's second army behind Azog.

As Azog was distracted, Thorin cast Orcrist aside, then leaned down and lifted the rock from the ice. With all his might, he threw it at Azog, who grabbed it in his arms, looking back up at him in confused hate.

Thorin tilted his head and widened his eyes mockingly, then jumped backward, off the small plate of ice they had both been standing on.

Ever so slowly, the ice began to tilt in Azog's direction, the weight of both him and his weapon unbalancing the plate. Azog slid backward into the water, clawing in vain at the slick surface of the ice. He shouted in horror as he slid underwater, his voice becoming garbled.

The ice plate floated back upright, Azog now safely underwater. Thorin heaved a sigh of relief—surely not even he could survive that? The current of the river beneath the ice would push him forward, down the waterfall.

He knelt down, retrieving his weapon. As he did so, he saw Azog's body floating in the current beneath the ice, swiftly being pulled toward him. He watched as the carcass drew closer to him, a gray lump beneath the ice, until it passed under a sheer part of the frozen water, where Thorin could see it more clearly.

Azog's eyes were still open.

He let out a breath of air he had not until then realized he had been holding in and stepped aside as Azog's body floated beneath him. It seemed it be...looking at him. He stepped forward, following the body's path, until the ice grew cloudy and white again.

Azog's eyes closed, his mouth with it. Surely, surely he was dead...

The eyes opened again, not expressionless like before, but full of malice, and the pale orc's teeth clenched. Suddenly, his blade arm pierced through the ice—and through Thorin's own foot.

Thorin let out a cry of pain and fear. The blade slid out of his foot, and Azog burst through the ice. Thorin fell backward and Azog leaped over his shaking body.

The pale orc swung at him, and he weakly deflected the blow with Orcrist. The orc swung his sword back up, and Thorin lifted his own blade to stop it. His weapon caught on Azog's, in a poorly designed divet in the pale orc's blade arm.

Azog grinned, pushing his weapon down toward Thorin's heart with deadly force. Thorin stared up into the pale orc's cruel, glittering eyes. His arms were weak and shaking—he couldn't hold this position for much longer. But he had to. All his life culminated in this one event, taking revenge on all the family killed by this single orc, taking revenge for turning him into an outcast.

Despite this, Thorin felt his arms beginning to fail, the ice cold and unforgiving beneath him. Even if he survived this battle, he didn't know if he'd live to become King Under the Mountain—his wounds were already great. Azog's bodyguards had been no petty goblin mercenaries, but great warriors.

Azog's blade tore through the cloth of his shirt and grazed his skin. His stomach began to bleed with fiery pain, but he was not hurt too bad, he thought. His arms were weak, and soon the blade would run him through, and part of him wanted to give in, for it to all end, for him to be at peace...

But looking up into Azog's face, Thorin felt a rush of anger and energy. Fíli was dead, killed by this very orc, and there was no way he was going to let Azog take victory over two of the sons of Durin. He remembered all he had lost, all he had done to get to this one moment, both the good and the bad, and he took strength from those memories—that of Fíli and Kíli, his loyal, brave nephews, both now dead; his friends among the company; Balin and Dwalin, his faithful counselors and friends; Bilbo, the burglar who still cared for him despite his actions under the dragonsickness. He remembered Dís, the sister he left behind in Ered Luin; Frerin, the brother killed in the same battle his grandfather was slain by Azog; his father Thráin, lost and vanished; his people, who needed a home.

Thorin summoned all that remained of his strength and in the last second before Azog ran him through, pushed Orcrist up, sending Azog's blade flying and stabbing the pale orc right in the chest.

Thorin pushed him over, standing over his enemy and leaning with all his weight on the weapon impaling Azog. He heard the crunch of ice and bone as Orcrist broke through the ice on the other side. The cold malice in Azog's eyes died, leaving Thorin standing over his enemy's body.

He was lightheaded and dizzy. Thorin pulled his sword out of the orc's chest, limping over to the edge of the waterfall. He stared down at the battle still raging below—tiny dots fighting other tiny dots. Meaningless, all of it. Just like Thorin himself. He could feel his wounds biting at him, the exhaustion of what he had just done taking its toll on his body. Azog was slain, but so were his nephews—and he still did not have the Arkenstone.

His eyes rolled up in his head and he fell to the ground.

* * *

The world spun as Bilbo opened his eyes, and he frowned and groaned as he felt the bruise on his head throb. Otherwise he felt fine—the orcs must have thought he was dead and ignored him.

As he looked up into the sky, he saw birds flying overhead, huge and majestic. "The eagles are coming..." he murmured.

Suddenly, he sat straight upright, realizing in horror that he had no idea where any of the others were. Kíli, Dwalin, and Thorin were all gone, no where to be seen. He got to his feet unsteadily, shaking his head, and looked around. The battle seemed to be over now, at least in this area, and dying down everywhere else.

He stumbled around, eventually coming to the edge of a level of stairs. He clutched the fence surrounded the cliffside, sighting Thorin at the edge of a huge waterfall. He watched him stand there in concern, only a few feet away from the great carcass of Azog the Defiler. Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. He had survived.

Then his breath caught as he watched Thorin collapse on the icy ground. He raced down the steps, hurrying to the dwarf king's side.

As he approached, he saw Thorin's eyes lift open. The dwarf coughed, then gasped out, "Bilbo!"

Bilbo crouched down beside him and grabbed his hand, looking at him up and down, he saw various wounds on him, but none looked too serious. Still, there was a tiredness in Thorin's eyes that frightened him.

"Don't move, don't move!" Bilbo protested, pushing Thorin back down gently as the dwarf tried to rise. "Lie still!"

Thorin lay back down with a faint sigh of relief. As Bilbo looked at Thorin again, he saw a gash in his side. Disgusted and horrified, he stroked the wound, then pulled his hand back quickly as Thorin grunted in pain and he felt blood stain his finger.

"I'm glad you're here," Thorin rasped, his voice hoarse.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh!" Bilbo protested. His heart pounded—those were not the words of an injured king, but a dying one. He looked over Thorin's face, noting with fear that it was caked in blood. What had happened while he had been knocked out? Where were Kíli and Dwalin? Was Azog dead?

"I wish to part from you in friendship," Thorin rasped, looking him in the eyes. His look was so open and sincere, very different from the last time Bilbo had been this close to him.

"No, you aren't going anywhere, Thorin!" Bilbo protested. He tried to cover up the sluggishly bleeding wound on Thorin's side with the dwarf's clothes, glancing back and forth up to his face as he did so. "You're going to live!"

"I would take back...my words and my deeds at the gate," Thorin said, obviously struggling to breathe. Bilbo wanted to shush him, to tell him to save it for when he was healed, but he could tell this was very important to him. And he wanted to hear this, too, Thorin's personal apology to him. He looked up and met his gaze.

"You did what only a true friend would do," Thorin whispered. He stopped, breathing hard. "Forgive me," he rasped, his voice full of his scarce, hard-won breath.

Bilbo nodded, about to reply, when Thorin continued, "I was too blind to see." He could see the guilt in the dwarf's face as he shook his head. Bilbo forgave him—he already had. Thorin hadn't been himself when he said those things back at the gate, and it was not in Bilbo's nature to hold a grudge, especially to a friend so dear.

"I am so sorry...that I have led you into such...peril," Thorin said, with much effort. He breathed hard, coughing, and Bilbo grabbed his hand again, looking at him earnestly.

"No, I...I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin, each and every one of them," Bilbo said, trying to comfort him. And he was: it had been dangerous and he was not the same hobbit who left the Shire, but he was changed for the better, and he knew that this adventure was the best thing that had happened to him in his life.

Thorin's breathing slowed, and he rolled his head to better look at Bilbo. There was relief in his eyes, relief that he was forgiven.

"It is far more than any Baggins deserves," Bilbo continued, meaning every word.

Thorin smiled gently, seeming kinder in that moment than Bilbo could remember him every being before. "Farewell, Master Burglar," he whispered. Bilbo wanted to cry out, to protest, but he could see the toll this was taking on Thorin's mind and his body. Instead, he merely slumped, beginning to realize that, perhaps...perhaps Thorin  _wasn't_  going to make it out of this.

"Go back to your books...and your armchair..." Thorin whispered, smiling with every muscle in his face. Bilbo was reminded of his own speech back in the Misty Mountains, his words echoing in Thorin's own.

"Plant your trees...watch them grow..." Thorin continued. Bilbo felt tears welling up in his eyes. The acorn would be planted, and he would remember this moment every time he glanced up at it with grief and with pride, pride that Thorin had overcome his sickness, that even though he had... _died_...he had done so in his right mind, defending his kingdom.

"If more people...valued home...above gold...this world...would be a merrier place."

With those whispered words, Bilbo saw Thorin's eyes gently droop closed, his bloodstained lips letting loose a final sigh. Panic and denial filled the hobbit's mind, and he stammered out, "No—no, no no—no, Thorin! Thorin, don't you dare!"

Thorin took a shuddering breath, then faded away. Bilbo stared into the dead eyes of his friend, unable to accept what had just happened.

"Thorin?" he said through his tears, faintly pointing up into the sky. "Look, Thorin. Thorin, hold on. You hold on. You see, the eagles...the eagles, the eagles are here. Thorin...the eag..."

A tear escaped his eyes and splashed onto the ground. Bilbo cried then, for a long while. At last he got ahold of himself and placed a hand on Thorin's still bloodied chest. He could hear the sound of others approaching—the other dwarves. Kíli would have to be told, and crowned king...if Kíli had survived. Blind with grief, Bilbo wiped his eyes with his free hand.

And then...the hand place down Thorin's chest moved upward with a faint breath.

Hope blossomed. Quickly, Bilbo checked Thorin's pulse. His heart was still beating. Thorin was not dead—he was alive! Unconscious and gravely wounded, but alive!

Bilbo leapt to his feet, and raced toward the approaching dwarves, their faces long with sorrow. What a sight he must have been, wild and hopeful as he was.

"Balin—Dwalin!" he exclaimed, speaking to the first two dwarves he saw. "He's...Thorin's alive! He's not dead yet, but he will be soon, we've got to save him, we've got to—"

Dwalin pushed past Bilbo, breaking into a run. Before Bilbo knew what was happening, the dwarves had lifted Thorin and were carrying him swiftly but carefully down to the medic camps that had been put up in Dale.

Confused and hoping beyond hope, Bilbo ran after them. Maybe they could survive this after all.

* * *

Tears streamed down Tauriel's face as she knelt by Kíli's body. She could feel Thranduil's presence close by.

"They want to bury him," she told him. A few dwarves had found her after the battle. Oakenshield had survived, so she heard, but Kíli and his brother were dead and to be buried.

"Yes," Thranduil said softly.

Tauriel tried to hold back the full extent of her grief. "If this is love, I do not want it," she cried. She clutched Kíli's hand, her senses numb from the cold and looked up into Thranduil's face, pleading with wide green eyes. If love hurt this much, if it reached into her soul and destroyed it with the pain of loss, then it was not worth it. She wished she was still at home in the Greenwood, alive and free, never having known the pain of loving Kíli. She wished she was whole, and at peace. She wished she had never defied Thranduil's orders.

"Take it from me," she begged him. "Please."

Her king said nothing, looking beyond her. The woes of centuries weighed on his shoulders, she knew, including the death of his wife.

" _No grave...no memory..."_  Legolas's words spoken at Gundabad echoed in her mind. Thranduil felt her pain, she could tell.

Tauriel looked down at Kíli, knowing they would never kiss, never love, never live together, never... _anything_. She looked back up at Thranduil.

"Why does it hurt so much?" she sobbed, her voice cracking. Tears streamed down her face. She should have followed Kíli to Erebor, not gone with Legoas to Gundabad. She could have stopped this...saved him.

Thranduil was calm, composed in his body language, but his eyes betrayed a raw pain. She turned away from him, her eyes closed. He would not comfort her—at worst he could only say "I told you so."

"Because it was real," Thranduil answered softly. She jerked her head back up and stared at him, shocked. Acceptance. Tauriel had not known he was capable of that.

But it  _was_  real, she knew. It was true, just like Thranduil's long-lost love for his wife. Tauriel loved Kíli deeply, despite everything that had happened, and more had happened for her in just these few days than in the rest of her long life, and it was realer than countless years in the Greenwood were or ever could be.

Tauriel saw now that she had been wrong to accuse Thranduil of being loveless. He could not love in the same way she could, for he was a king. But he also had been wrong to say that Tauriel's love for Kíli was false.

They understood each other now. Tauriel took a deep breath, then leaned down over Kíli's dead body, clutching his hand, her lips meeting his cold, dead ones in a kiss that could never truly be.

Kíli's lips twitched. Surprised, Tauriel drew back. His eyes flickered open, and she let out a soft cry of "Oh!" In that single gasp, she expressed shock and delight and hope beyond description in any tongue of elf, dwarf, or man.

"Tauriel," he whispered. "Kiss me again...please..."

Behind her, she heard Thranduil gasp and shuffle backward. Tauriel let out a sob of relief, then leaned down again and complied.

This time he answered the kiss, their lips meeting earnestly. Kíli struggled to shuffle up into a sitting position, grabbing a fistful of her hair to support himself. Tauriel shifted so he held him, all the while kissing his bloodstained lips.

They broke apart and Tauriel began to cry again, this time with relief. Kíli was crying too, a broken child brought back from the brink of death. She clutched her dwarf in her arms protectively, never wanting to let him go.

"Tauriel..." Thranduil said, sounding very uncomfortable. "Should I leave...?"

Kíli groaned as she hugged him. "Tauriel, not so tight," he grunted. "Oh, Mahal..." He coughed. "I'm injured still...just not...dead."

Tauriel loosened her grip, turning to look up at her king. "Send some help!" she begged him. "He needs medical attention! And let his family know, they think he's dead!"

Thranduil scowled, obviously unhappy of her rude orders, but he nodded nonetheless and stepped away. "I will be back shortly," he said evenly, concealing his true thoughts.

Tauriel wiped the tears from her face, staring down at Kíli. He smiled up at her, his eyelids drooping.

"Don't go, Kíli," she whispered into his ear. "I won't lose you. Not again... _amrâlimê_."


	3. Fíli Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, but it says what I wanted it to in a concise way.

**Part One: Life and Death  
** **Chapter Three: Fíli Found**

* * *

Dwalin trudged along the paths of Ravenhill, sorrow clouding his mind. Though he had with great relief and hope helped carry the injured yet still breathing Thorin down to the camps where the remaining elves, men, and dwarves had begun to treat their wounded, the pain of losing both Fíli and Kíli was close in his heart. He had helped to raise those poor, fatherless boys as much as Thorin and their mother Dís had. He had trained them, protected them, loved them...and now they were dead.

In truth, Dwalin blamed himself. If only he had done something—gone with them to scout out the towers instead of fighting the goblins with Thorin... But that was over now, and at least one of the heirs of Durin remained to take the throne of Erebor.

Dwalin had wished to stay with Thorin, but his brother Balin had convinced him to take Ori and Bofur to retrieve the bodies of the dead still lying on Ravenhill. Bofur had found Kíli, with the elf girl watching over him. Dwalin had wanted to take his body right then and there, but Ori and Bofur had convinced him to let her grieve. They would find Fíli's body first, then take care of that situation later.

Dwalin could not quite remember the exact location of Fíli's demise, but he knew the elder son lay at the bottom of a tower. He felt another sharp stab of grief as he recalled how Fíli had fallen past his brother and down to the cold, unforgiving ice below, not thinking once for himself.

A tower loomed out of the mist. Dwalin trudged toward it, conscious of Ori and Bofur's silent searches all around him. The grief was raw for them all. They spoke little or not at all. Poor Ori was so young for this journey, young like Fíli and Kíli. At least he had survived.

A faint groan echoed through the air. Dwalin sighed—a trick of the wind, he hoped, and not another orc he must battle. Then he saw a lump close to the base of the tower. It could only be Fíli's remains. He scrambled across the ice and rock toward it.

The groan came again as he neared the lump. Dwalin unsheathed his sword, looking around and expecting trouble. But no orc or goblin appeared out of the mist. He crept closer to Fíli's body.

Dwalin reeled backward, staring into Fíli's feverish, empty eyes—eyes that looked almost  _alive_. The groan came once more, Fíli's lips twitching. Then those eyes moved to lock gazes with him.

Dwalin almost fell backwards in shock. "Fíli!" he cried out hoarsely, dropping his blade with a clatter and falling to his knees beside the injured prince.

"Dwalin..." Fíli mumbled.

"You're alive!" Dwalin sobbed, propping him upright. He quickly assessed the damage—the wound in his side was most obvious, a gaping and bleeding hole. His arm was broken and a multitude of cuts adorned his visible skin. He was in a serious condition.

"Thorin..." Fíli whispered. "Kíli..."

"Thorin's alive, lad," Dwalin said comfortingly, cradling Fíli's head. "Hurt, but alive. And Kíli..." His voice cracked. "Kíli didn't make it."

Fíli's eyes drooped shut. Dwalin wondered if he did not wish to live a life without his brother, and that those words might have killed the young prince. "Don't die on me, Fíli!" he cried fiercely. "Hang in there, lad—you've plenty to live for yet!"

Fíli drew a shuddering breath, then passed out. He was still alive, but only just, his breaths shallow and his skin hot and feverish.

"Ori!" Dwalin shouted. "Bofur! Come quickly—Fíli's alive!"

The sound of running feet approached him, and a wide-eyed Ori took in the situation and helped Dwalin pick Fíli up. Bofur ran up to grab his feet, and together they began to carry him down to the tents in Dale where he could be treated and saved.

Halfway down the steps, they ran into a startled Elvenking and a group of his elves. They swarmed upon Fíli, taking him from his kin and hurrying him down below.

"Wait!" Dwalin bellowed. "Be careful—he's still alive!"

"Yes, we know," the king said evenly. "And so is the other, his brother. We have come to care for him as well."

"Kíli is...alive?" Dwalin whispered as the remaining elves passed him by. Alive? He must tell Fíli!

He rushed down to catch up to the elves carrying Fíli. "Hear that, Fíli?" he shouted. "Kíli is alive! Keep living, Fíli! Keep living for your brother's sake!"


	4. A Close Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hithwen" means "mist maiden" in Sindarin, and "Gwelonir" means "air man". I thought it might be interesting to know.
> 
> By the way, I'll be out of town for the next two weeks. I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update, but I'll probably be able to get at least one update in during that time, and I'll be back to normal by the last week of August.

**Part Two: After the Storm  
** **Chapter Four: A Close Call**

* * *

Bilbo waited impatiently outside the tent, tapping his foot on the ground. Nervousness bubbled inside him. The elves hadn't allowed him—or any of the other dwarves—to come into the tent where Thorin was being healed.

"We must keep him stable," an apologetic Elf-healer had said, pushing Bilbo and Balin away. The other dwarves of the company had lingered off to the side, anxiously watching their companions' efforts to see Thorin. "I am sorry. But you must let him rest if you wish for him to live."

So now Bilbo and Balin stood outside the tent, keeping a scowling guard over Thorin, who suffered inside.

"Where—where did Dwalin go?" Bilbo asked Balin. "And Ori and Bofur? They're not here."

"I sent them to find the bodies," the old dwarf said in a gravelly, tearful voice. "Fíli and Kíli."

"What happened to Kíli?" the hobbit wondered aloud.

Balin shook his head. "He is dead, I fear. And if he lives, I do not know how he will take Thorin's death, on top of Fíli's..."

"But Thorin's not dead!" Bilbo protested, his voice warbling a little higher. It wasn't possible. It couldn't happen. Not if the elves were healing him.

Balin only sighed and closed his eyes. "I fear he will not last for long."

Bilbo bit his lip, worried. Then behind them, he heard a familiar bellow of "Balin!"

It was Dwalin. Bilbo turned to see him running toward him and Balin, a wild light in his eyes. The bald dwarf slowed to a halt in front of the, gasping for breath.

"What is it, Dwalin?" Balin asked, placing a hand on his brother's back. "And where are Ori and Bofur?"

"They are coming," Dwalin gasped out. He coughed, getting control of his breath. "Balin—they're alive!'

"What?!" Bilbo burst out. "Who?" He dreaded to think it was the orcs Azog and Bolg. If that was true, the battle was not over yet.

"Fíli and Kíli," Dwalin said, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "They aren't dead."

Balin's eyes widened. He glanced around. "Where are they?"

"Coming, with Ori and Bofur and some elves," Dwalin said. He scowled. "I hate to admit it, but these elves may have saved the line of Durin after all."

"Make way!" a voice shouted out. "King Thranduil and wounded dwarves are passing!"

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield, who were bursting with excitement at the wonderful news, stepped aside as Thranduil the Elvenking made his way down to the healing tents. Behind him, a posse of elves followed, carrying the limp but still breathing bodies of Fíli and Kíli.

Balin can toward them and began to speak with Thranduil. Dwalin turned to Bilbo and said roughly, "Where is Thorin?"

"He's in that tent right there," Bilbo replied. As Dwalin began to push past him and go into the tent, Bilbo stood in his way. "No—they won't let us in there!"

"Elves be damned," Dwalin snarled. "I will see my king!'

"Dwalin, please—"

Just then, an elf-healer stepped out to see Bilbo restraining Dwalin. She blinked.

"My lords, patience, please," she said politely.

"Let me in," Dwalin said stiffly.

"You may see King Oakenshield now," she said quietly, "but you must be  _quiet_. He needs to rest. Do not wake him."

Bilbo hurried into the tent after Dwalin. Thorin lay on a makeshift bed of cloth and straw. His wounds had been healed, and he wore no shirt. His eyes were closed. He looked...frail. Weak.

Dwalin stood at his bedside. Bilbo came up to stand next to the bald dwarf.

"Dwalin—" he began.

"Quiet," the elf-healer hissed.

Bilbo nodded and fell silent, staring at the sleeping dwarf king.

"Heal quickly, Thorin," he whispered. He hoped he had heard.

* * *

" _Kíli..."_

A gentle voice. Soft, kind, loving. Who was it?

" _Kíli, dear..."_

That wasn't his name. Or it was. Was it? He couldn't remember.

His chest hurt. His throat hurt. His leg hurt. Everything hurt. He felt like coughing, but he didn't have the strength.

" _Kíli..."_

There was a coolness on his hands, but what it was he couldn't tell.

" _Return to me."_

He felt the thing on his hands: a stone, round, and smooth save for the engravings on it.  _Return to me._

Kíli gasped, breathing in air through a parched throat. He let out a groan, suddenly recognizing the voice in his mind.

"Mother!" he cried out.

Reality crashed down all around him and he felt like flood back into him. He sat up wildly, the stone slipping out of his hand and dropping to the floor. He blinked, overwhelmed by the color all around him.

"Kíli!"

This voice was not his mother's, but it brought him life all the same. She came toward him, her hair ablaze with burning colors, and placed a gentle hand on his aching chest.

"Tauriel," he sighed, looking up into her fearful green eyes. He relaxed, allowing her to help him back down into a lying position. To his embarrassment, he realized he was shirtless, and her hand placed on his bare and hairy chest. He had been bandaged and felt cleaner. His hair had been tied back, leaving his neck and shoulders cold and bare.

He was underneath a blanket, lying on a bed of straw and blankets. His trousers had not been removed, but the pant legs rolled up so they could bandage his leg wound.

As he took in his surroundings, he noticed the presence of others beside Tauriel and himself in the tent. Kíli glanced around at them, breathing as deeply as his aching lungs would allow. Two other elves, complete strangers, watched him with calm, detached interest. And Balin stood off to the side, smiling at him with an expression of faint concern.

"You're awake," Tauriel said with relief, sliding her hand down from his chest to his hand. She knelt by his side and smiled at him with all her elven beauty. "You slept for so long, I began to worry..."

"I feel much better now, my starlight," he told her with as broad a smile as he could manage. "Thank you for rescuing me from the brink of death...again."

"Let's not make it a habit," she told him seriously, squeezing his hand. They had not broken eye contact yet, and as far as Kíli went, he never wanted to again. "It was a very close call. And it is not me you should thank, it is Hithwen and Gwelonir who saved your life."

Kíli struggled to sit up again, but a brown-haired elf, whom he thought was a male, approached and pushed him back.

"Lie still," he said. "You must rest if you wish to recover. I am Gwelonir."

"Thank you," he told them sincerely.

Gwelonir smiled crookedly. "You are welcome, dwarf prince."

"You will be able to sit in a few hours," the other elf, a female who was presumably Hithwen, told him. "You will be able to walk in a day or two. Your wounds were not as great as we first presumed."

"So the battle's over?" Kíli asked, squeezing Tauriel's hand. She leaned over and picked up the promise stone, putting it back in her pocket.

"Yes," Hithwen said. "We have treated many elves already, but they heal faster than dwarves."

"Kíli," Balin said from the corner, taking a step forward.

"Balin!" Kíli exclaimed with a broad smile. "Have you met Tauriel?"

"Yes, she introduced herself," he said, "but that is beside the point. Kíli, I have news."

"News?" Kíli's spirits plummeted. Suddenly he remembered all the bad and evil the world, the fight he had just fought, and...he closed his eyes, pain welling up in his chest once again, but the pain of loss. Fíli was dead.

He couldn't think, he could hardly breathe, and the loss was so deep and profound that he felt like dying himself. Fíli was his friend, his guide, his help, his  _brother_. To think of a life without him was to think of a life without one of his arms. A part of him was missing.

Tauriel squeezed his hand and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. A single tear dropped from his eyes. His mouth trembled. "What did you do with Fíli?"

"Fíli is in another tent, lad," Balin said.

"When...when is the burial?" Kíli asked, fighting back a sob. He closed his eyes tightly to repress tears. Tauriel murmured something to him in Elvish. "And where is Thorin?"

"Kíli, Fíli's not dead," Balin told him earnestly.

Hope, impossible, desperate hope made his eyes fly open. He struggled to sit upright again, but Hithwen and Gwelonir pushed him back down.

"He's alive?" Kíli gasped. "But I saw him die! How is he not dead?"

"He's very gravely injured," Gwelonir told him. "Hithwen and I visited him as well. There are other elves healing him. I do not know if he will survive."

"But there is hope," Hithwen murmured. "And foolish as hope may be, we cling to it as our banner. Do not give into despair yet, dwarf prince."

"I must visit him," Kíli declared.

"You will stay put unless you wish to die yourself," Gwelonir reprimanded him. "Dwarves! So stubborn!"

Tauriel smiled. "I can live with stubborn."

Kíli was not paying attention. "But what about Thorin?" he demanded of Balin. "Where is he?"

"He killed Azog," Balin said; "at least, we assume so. He almost died himself, but he will recover...probably."

"They have sedated your brother," Hithwen said. "He was in too much pain."

"I have to visit him," Kíli pleaded. "I can't leave him by himself. And Thorin, too!"

"Thorin is also still asleep," Gwelonir informed him. "Must we sedate you as well?"

Kíli gritted his teeth and laid back down, taking a deep breath. "No. I will wait."

"I will go tell the others that you are feeling better," Balin said, nodding to him. "I will visit Fíli and Thorin and tell them, too, if they have woken."

"Thank you, Balin," Kíli said. Exhaustion swept over him and he sighed. "I think I'm going to go back to sleep myself. I'm tired."

Tauriel kissed his forehead again. "Sleep well, Kíli. Sleep well."


	5. Thorin Woken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, without any Kiliel, but the next one is rather long and full of that ship, so I think that makes up for it. Enjoy!  
> "Tuines" = sprout maiden; "Maleneth" = golden girl; "Glamoron" = echo.

**Part Two: After the Storm  
** **Chapter Five: Thorin Woken**

* * *

At first, Thorin didn't want to open his eyes.

He lay in bed for several minutes, hearing the quiet rustle of other bodies in the tent around him. He felt the dull pain of several wounds all over his body. He was tired, both in body and in mind. He only wanted to rest.

At last, he gave in. He was thirsty, and he knew that whoever else was in this tent could probably get him some water, or wine. He opened his eyes and tried to shakily sit up.

Immediately, he was accosted by elves. There were three of them, pushing him back. He snarled and hit them away as hard as he could, but his strength was weak.

"Get away from me, elvish scum!" he growled.

"Thorin—Thorin!" He knew that voice. It was Dwalin. His old friend approached, grabbing his arms to restrain him.

"Dwalin," Thorin said through gritted teeth. "Why are there elves?"

"These elves saved your life, Thorin!" another voice exclaimed. He jerked his head to see Bilbo. "You could at least be grateful!"

He relaxed. "You can let go of me, Dwalin," he told the bald dwarf stiffly.

Dwalin released his king's wrists and stepped back. "I am sorry," he apologized gruffly.

Thorin shook his head. "You meant well." He turned to the elves and bowed his head stiffly. "I apologize. And...thank you."

One of the healer elves smiled at him. "You are welcome, your Majesty. I am Tuines. Maleneth and Glamoron and I were the ones who woke you from your slumber. Welcome back to life, Thorin Oakenshield." She bowed her head, stepping back. "I must go. Your nephew Fíli requires the best healers. Maleneth and Glamoron will stay with you."

"Fíli?" Thorin rasped, turning to Dwalin and Bilbo questioningly. "Fíli is dead. I saw him die." He gritted his teeth. "With Azog's death I avenged him."

"He's not dead, Thorin," Bilbo said, smiling nervously. "And Kíli is safe too. We're all safe. We all made it out alive."

Thorin closed his eyes. "How was he saved?"

"I think it was our halfling," Dwalin said, turning to Bilbo with a nod. "That rock you threw at Azog's blade must have made him stab the wrong part of Fíli. Our lad's in poor condition, but...the elves say he'll live."

"Glamoron thinks so, anyway," Bilbo said with a nod to one of the elves.

The elf in question smiled at Thorin. "He has a chest wound, but he is recovering."

Thorin grunted gruffly. "May I go see him? And Kíli?"

"No, your Majesty," the third elf, Maleneth, said. "You must rest. You can leave this bed only when you are fully healed."

Thorin scowled. "At the very least may I have some water?"

"Of course," Glamoron replied. "Maleneth, would you go get him some?"

She nodded and left. Dwalin coughed, then asked Thorin, "How do you feel?"

He grunted, stroking his beard. "Better. My wounds ache less, but still hurt."

"Even elvish medicine cannot cure all so quickly," Glamoron said. "Maleneth and Tuines and I have done our best, but dwarves do not heal as quickly as elves."

"Is Dáin camped here?" Thorin asked. "And I assume the Elvenking still abides, if his healers remain."

"Dáin is here, as is Thranduil," Dwalin confirmed. "The company has been staying with him, when they do not stand vigil by your tent, and Fíli and Kíli's."

"Bard, the leader of them men of Lake-town, has agreed to become the new king of Dale," Bilbo added. "The day of his coronation has not been decided—he was waiting to see if you would survive. I think he would like the idea of a joint coronation."

Thorin scowled. "Let his day be his own, and mine my own. I do not wish to share it with the man, he may be crowned whenever he wishes."

Maleneth returned, a cup of water in her hands. "Here, your Majesty."

He took it, grunting his vague thanks. Bilbo looked at him for a few moments, then turned and told her, "Thank you." As if he was doing it for Thorin. As if Thorin wasn't being polite.

"Thank you," he added gruffly, admitting to himself that he could show at least an ounce of gratitude.

Maleneth nodded to him, then returned to talking quietly with Glamoron.

"Balin was here earlier," Dwalin said, "but he left to go visit Kíli."

Thorin sighed quietly. He suddenly remembered all the bad he had done while under the influence of dragonsickness...threats, rash decisions, obsession with gold...he had apologized before, in his own fashion, but he felt he needed to apologize again. Indeed, he would be apologizing for the rest of his life.

"Dwalin, Bilbo..." he began, looking away awkwardly, "I am sorry for the way I acted earlier, before—"

"You are forgiven," Bilbo said immediately, interrupting him. "You were already."

Thorin remembered his speech to the halfling as he lay under the presumption he was dying, and felt a twinge of embarrassment. To bare his soul like that, to Bilbo of all...well, he could only hope that the burglar would not speak of it to anyone else.

"It is behind us," Dwalin agreed. "You will be a great king, Thorin, and your great deeds then will outshine those of your sickness."

"Thank you, friends," Thorin said. The two elves in the room looked at each other uncomfortably.

"You should go tell the Company of my good health, it will do them good," he told Dwalin and Bilbo, nodding. "And if you could, gather reports of the battle and the work that must be done to repair Erebor. We have a long time ahead of us before we can truly call this place home." He looked directly at Bilbo, saying quietly, "Indeed this world will be a merrier place for the love of home."


	6. Introductions

**Part Two: After the Storm  
** **Chapter Six: Introductions**

* * *

Hithwen and Gwelonir cleared Kíli for walking two days later. Tauriel helped her little dwarf get off his bed and onto his feet once more.

"Who do you want to visit first?" she asked him. "Your brother or your uncle?"

"Fíli," he said automatically. He beamed at her. "Did you hear what Balin said? He woke up yesterday and recognized Balin and Ori. He's getting so much better, they say! And he knows I'm alive!"

"How much does he know about...me?" Tauriel asked worriedly. "I mean. He was in Esgaroth with us. But does he know we're...?"

She left the question hanging. Neither of them had really talked about what they were going to do...after. Whenever "after" was. Tauriel knew what she felt was real, she knew she would love Kíli and none other. She could tell Kíli wanted to get married and settle down, though he hadn't said as much, but she was afraid to rush. Permanence was what elves were built for, but she wanted to make sure that this permanence would be good. Tauriel's heart knew what it wanted, but her head still said there was trouble ahead.

"No more than what he saw in Esgaroth and the lakeshore," Kíli said. He sighed, worry clouding his vision. "My kin will not take well to our love, my starlight."

Tauriel loved his nickname for her, but that aside she knew what he said was true. "Neither will mine," she admitted. "Hithwen and Gwelonir have known me since childhood. They taught me all my healing skills, and all I know of athelas, the herb that cured you in Laketown. They were kind, but even they were distant. Many, I fear, will not approve."

"We'll find a way," Kíli said confidently. He smiled up at her, standing on his tiptoes. Tauriel bent down to kiss him.

When they broke apart, Tauriel smiled. "Let us go to your brother."

As Kíli left his tent for the first time since he had entered it, Tauriel supporting him as he limped still, the dwarves loitering allowing them to surround him and shout good tidings. Several looked curiously at Tauriel, and a few glared at her in disapproval. Though they had fought together against the orcs, bad feelings still abounded.

"Bofur! Glóin! Nori!" Kíli exclaimed. "How good it is to see you again! Where are the rest of the company? I wish to greet them as well!"

"They are waiting outside Thorin and Fíli's tents," one of the dwarves in question answered. He was Bofur, if Tauriel recalled correctly, the one with the silly hat who had stayed with them in Laketown.

"Where is Fíli?" Kíli asked urgently. "I have not seen my brother since I thought he had died."

"Follow me!" Bofur said, turning away and leading them along. "They aren't letting anyone but Balin in to see him," he explained as Tauriel assisted Kíli's slow walk throughout the sick camp. "They say we dwarves are too noisy. Elves," he said with distaste.

Tauriel raised an eyebrow at him. Kíli stammered out indignantly, "I know some very good elves! Tauriel, and the ones who healed me—"

"Sorry, sorry," Bofur apologized, and he did seem sincere. He glanced up at Tauriel. "Still, not quite my taste. Each to their own."

They walked a little further before Bofur stopped them. "Here we are," he said. "I hope they let you in. It'd do Fíli good to see you. Your elfmaid might sway them."

Tauriel helped Kíli stumble forward until they could peek in through the tent. A cross elf face appeared before them.

"I've told you dwarves a thousand times—" she began. Then she stopped, noticing Tauriel.

Tauriel recognized her as well. "Gailien," she greeted her. " _Mae govannen_."

" _What do you want, Tauriel?"_  Gailien asked quietly in Sindarin. " _You are no healer, and this dwarf—"_

"— _is your patient's brother,"_  she interrupted. " _Let us in, Gailien. Please."_

"Very well," the healer relented, speaking again in the common tongue. "You may come in."

Kíli had watched this exchange in confusion, but looked relieved at Gailien's words. Tauriel helped him walk forward into the tent.

His brother Fíli lay inert, his eyes closed. Kíli knelt by his bedside, biting his lip in concern.

"How is he doing?" Tauriel asked Gailien.

She tilted her head. "Better," she replied. "But..." She changed to Sindarin and lowered her voice. " _He is still poor off. I fear only a miracle would save him. I wish dwarves could heal as easily as we elves."_

" _As do I,"_ Tauriel admitted. " _It pains me to see Kíli like this..."_

" _What is going on between you and the dwarf?"_  the healer asked.

" _Love only,"_  she replied calmly. Tauriel had know Gailien for two hundred years, and though they were not especially close, she knew well enough that she would disapprove. But she would stand firm.

Gailien sniffed. " _It will not end well,"_  she warned. " _He will die eventually. You will be left alone."_

" _Thranduil said as much,"_  Tauriel said stiffly. " _But it is better to love and lose than to never love at all. He knows that to be true."_

Gailien raised her eyebrows. " _I will not disagree with our king, then."_

Tauriel ignored her, focusing instead on Kíli. He stared at his brother with concern and fear. "When did he last wake?" he asked, turning to face Gailien.

"It was last night," Gailien answered. "Do not worry. It is normal for the injured to sleep."

At those words, Fíli's eyelids fluttered open. Kíli let out a cry, embracing his half-awake brother as best he could.

"Kíli," Fíli said, cracking a smile. When as before he had appeared deathly, the blond dwarf now seemed alive. He sat up in his bed and grinned at his brother. "I did not think I would see your face again."

"Nor I, but in death," Kíli said. "Here we are now, both of us alive! We have much debt to the elves."

Fíli sighed softly, but turned to Gailien and the other elf in his tent and said without resentment, "Thank you. I think...I think I will live after all."

"How remarkable!" exclaimed the other elf in the tent, whom Tauriel did not recognize. "It is as if woken from a haunted dream."

"It is the miracle I had hoped for," Gailien murmured. "I fear no longer for his survival." She raised her voice so Fíli could hear, saying, "It will be many days yet before you may move about, Master Dwarf, but you will live. Tuines and I will go to tell your kin of the good tidings."

Fíli glanced up at Tauriel as Gailien and the other elf left the tent. "So you are still with my brother," he said evenly.

Kíli squirmed uncomfortably, but said nothing. Tauriel smiled at the both of them and replied, "Yes. And I intend to stay."

"Hm." Fíli grunted. "Uncle Thorin will not be pleased."

Kíli laughed nervously. "We really ought to see him."

"Yes," Tauriel agreed.

"I cannot protect you from his wrath," Fíli said, "nor can I give my blessing." He looked at Tauriel disapprovingly. "But I still will not hinder you, though elf and dwarf ought not to mix."

Tauriel gritted her teeth. "It is the elves you have to thank for your life, many times over. Do you still wish we had never mixed?"

Fíli looked away. Kíli was distraught, his eyes pleading as he looked between his brother and his love.

"Please don't fight," he begged.

"Peace," Tauriel said. "For Kíli's sake, we should not argue."

"Peace I can live with," Fíli agreed. "It is a good thing to live full again, but weary am I still. Let me rest. Go visit Uncle Thorin."

Kíli stood, smiling down on his brother. "Very well, Fíli. Sleep well."

He closed his eyes and laid back down. Kíli limped back over to Tauriel, grabbing her hand. They left the tent as Gailien and her companion reentered it.

"That could have gone better," Kíli grumbled. "And Fíli is right...Uncle Thorin will be furious. Perhaps I ought to go to him alone."

"He will find out sooner or later," Tauriel disagreed. "Better not to lie to him."

"Kíli!" Bofur exclaimed upon seeing them again. "The elves tell us Fíli will live. Is it true?"

"It is!" he assured. "Though he sleeps again now. We go to find Thorin. Will you guide us?"

"Of course," Bofur agreed. "It is this way." He glanced up at Tauriel. "Thanks for helping him walk around. I don't think Thorin will take kindly to your presence, though."

"She's coming with me," Kíli said firmly. "I need to introduce Thorin to  _amrâlimê._ "

Bofur blinked, reassessing Tauriel. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "You are the one from Lake-town!" He glanced at Kíli again. "He'll be even less happy about that."

Tauriel grew more and more uneasy. She had not met Thorin in person, save for their hasty encounter when she and Legolas were aiding him against Azog's body on that fateful day on the ice, and from what she had gathered, he  _hated_ elves. She was nervous, though she tried her best not to show it.

"He will just have to deal with it," Kíli said, smiling up at Tauriel. "For Tauriel and I will not be parted now."

She answered his smile with a gentle one of her own. Bofur shrugged and said, "Well, it's certainly...unusual, but if you're happy, Kíli, I wish you and your elfmaid all the best. Especially with Thorin."

"Thank you, Bofur," Kíli said, sincerity and faint surprise tinging his voice.

He only winked at the two of them. They walked a little further, until Bofur stopped and pointed out a tent, saying, "There it is. Good luck, Kíli! And you too...?"

"Tauriel," she told him with a smile.

"Tauriel," he repeated, nodding. "I'll wait outside to help you if you need any afterward."

Kíli looked up at Tauriel right before they entered and said, biting his lip nervously, "You probably have gathered this by now, but Uncle Thorin...well, he's not very fond of elves. Whatever he says, it won't change anything."

"I'll love you even if he doesn't," Tauriel assured him.

Kíli shook his head. "It's not me I'm worried about. Well...less so. Even though he's bedridden now...I hope he doesn't take drastic measures."

Tauriel squeezed his hand. It was much better than holding only the cold, unfeeling promise stone. She was glad he had survived. "Let's go in," she said.

Kíli took the first step forward, lifting up the tent flap. Tauriel came in after him, taking in the room. Two elves, who looked vaguely familiar but whose names she did not know, sat talking quietly in Sindarin in the corner of the tent. Thorin Oakenshield sat propped up in a bed, leafing through papers with a grumpy frown on his face. A dwarf leaned over his shoulder, making comments on whatever it was written there. A strange, beardless dwarf-like creature dozed in a chair in the corner opposite to the healer elves.

As Kíli and Tauriel entered the ten, everyone looked up, save the sleeping beardless dwarf.

Thorin Oakenshield dropped his papers and broke into a grin at the sight of his nephew. "Kíli!" he exclaimed.

Kíli limped toward his uncle, smiling in his own turn, and embraced him. "What are you reading?" he asked, sitting down beside Thorin's bed.

Tauriel waited by the tent flap, uneasy. Ought she to go and stand by Kíli?

"Reports from the battle, and what happened while I was recovering, as well as requests and treaties from Thranduil and Bard," Thorin answered. He scowled again. "Loathe am I to give up my gold, but I have learned my lesson from the dragonsickness. Still, we will retain most of Erebor's wealth. Bard the Bowman still holds the Arkenstone, and will not return it until the kingdom of Dale receives its treasure."

"What does Thranduil want?" Kíli asked.

"The jewels he started this war to regain," the other dwarf answered. "And peace between our kingdoms."

"A reasonable request," Tauriel murmured. All eyes turned to her. Even the beardless dwarf woke from his sleep and stared at her.

"Who are you?" he asked curiously.

"I am Tauriel of Mirkwood," she answered, as calm and composed as she could manage. "Until recently, Captain of Thranduil's Guard."

"Pleased to meet you, Tauriel," the beardless dwarf said brightly, nodding to her with a smile. "I am Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit of the Shire."

"A hobbit!" she exclaimed in surprise. "A halfling? I did not think I would ever meet one of you!"

"Well, here I am!" he said.

Kíli smiled at Bilbo gratefully. He was known to him, then. Suddenly she recalled the mention of a halfling traveling with Oakenshield's company. Bilbo was a friend, and a good soul, it seemed.

"Why do you linger, elf?" Thorin rumbled. "You have helped Kíli here, for which I can thank you, but must you stay? It is bad enough that these two must stay. I would prefer only those known to me linger here."

Tauriel took a deep breath and strode proudly to Kíli's side. "King Oakenshield, I am afraid you must become used to me, for Kíli your sister's son and I have grown fond of each other."

Thorin's scowl deepened. He glared at Kíli and demanded, "Is this true?"

Kíli rose to his feet and took Tauriel's hand, kissing it gently. Not breaking eye contact with his uncle, he told him firmly, "It is. Tauriel and I met first in Mirkwood, and she then followed me to Lake-town. It was she, not Óin, who healed me of my ill there, and she who killed Bolg, saving me from death. I in my turn love her as she loves me, and we will not be parted."

His hand was shaking, his face flushed red, but Tauriel loved him all the more for standing up to his uncle. The other dwarf and the two elves stared at them in amazement and shock, while Bilbo murmured, "How sweet!" behind her back.

Thorin was furious. His brows were knit, his teeth gritted, and his face flushing an angry purple color.

"Kíli, an  _elf_?" he growled. "Of all creatures, you had to pick and  _elf_? Marry a hobbit or human for all I care—unconventional, but not unheard of—but no dwarf would ever willingly wed an elf! And especially one of Thranduil's kin, the elves who allowed Erebor to be lost in the first place!"

Kíli grew angry now as well. "With or without your blessing, Tauriel and I will do as we please!"

"And were it not for the elves of Thranduil's kin, you would not be here alive today," Tauriel shot back. "All Erebor would be infested by orcs! You owe us peace and happiness, Thorin Oakenshield!"

"Thorin—Thorin!" Bilbo exclaimed, his eyes wide. "Do you have to hurt them like this? We're all alive! We're all happy, or we would be if you let Kíli and Tauriel be!"

"Thorin, calm down," the other dwarf added, laying a hand on his king's shoulder.

"Yes, peace," a new voice said, this time coming from an old dwarf with a beard of white who had just entered the tent. "Thorin, calm your madness. Folly this may be, but it a joyful couple these fools make." He smiled at Kíli. "Let your nephew be happy."

Thorin took a deep breath, unclenching his fists and returning to calm. "Very well. Kíli. You and your elfmaid may abide in my kingdom. But I do not give my blessing. This is madness between you."

"This is the best I had expected from you, Thorin, but still I am disappointed," Kíli said, shaking his head. "Thank you anyway, Uncle. We will leave now. I will see you later."

Thorin grunted stiffly as Kíli and Tauriel turned to leave. Bilbo hurried outside behind them.

"I'm sorry," the halfling apologized to Tauriel directly. "He's not usually like this..."

"I expected as much," Kíli admitted. "He has too many prejudices, even now." He shook his head as Bofur approached them.

"How did it go?" the dwarf in the silly hat asked.

"It could have been better," Tauriel answered. "But it could have been worse."

"Look on the bright side!" Bofur exclaimed. "We can go eat now. Dáin's cooks are excellent."

"I would like to catch up with the Company," Kíli agreed. "Let's go."

"I'll come with you," Bilbo added.

"The mess hall it is," Tauriel said. "To food we go."


	7. Homeward Bound

**Part Two: After the Storm  
** **Chapter Seven: Homeward Bound**

* * *

It was two weeks later before all three of the heirs of Durin were fully and completely healed. Thorin set out to supervise the cleanup of Erebor as soon as he was ready. Dwalin, Balin, and his cousin Dáin Ironfoot assisted him, each one overseeing a different section of the mountain.

King Bard's coronation occurred immediately after Thorin's recovery. Thranduil, Thorin, Gandalf, and Kíli all attended, though Fíli was still bedridden at that point. Thranduil and his elves took their leave as soon as Fíli was completely recovered. Thorin had half-hoped Kíli's elfmaid would return to her forest home with her king, but she decided to remain. They had not announced their wedding yet, but Thorin could sense it coming. It made him want to be sick.

An  _elf_. Kíli had to go and fall in love with an  _elf._  He felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it. If Tauriel were a dwarf, he would have no issues with their relationship—she was brave, intelligent, and had proved her worth on multiple occasions. But he could not stand for an elf-dwarf union.

His sister Dís, mother of Kíli and Fíli, would be furious... Perhaps she could talk some sense into them.

What was worse, the other dwarves of the company seemed to have no issues with it. There were a few raised eyebrows, to be sure, but they soon got used to Tauriel.

Thorin was eating his evening meal with Fíli, Bilbo, and Balin one evening when he received an unexpected visitor. After the battle, Gandalf had wandered around Dale and Erebor, occasionally vanishing completely for several days before appearing just as suddenly. He had not spoken to Thorin for more than a few minutes in that time, but he appeared in the king's chambers now.

"Thorin Oakenshield," the wizard greeted him, taking off his hat and placing it on the table. "It's time you and I spoke about a few things."

"Gandalf!" Bilbo exclaimed in delight.

"Hello, my dear Bilbo," he said, smiling down at the halfling. "And to you too, Fíli and Balin."

Fíli and Balin each murmured their greetings. Thorin felt the absence of Kíli. He and Tauriel had eaten quickly, then left, claiming they needed to help with the still ongoing repairs. Thorin knew that they truly felt uncomfortable around himself, which set him grumbling, though he knew they were justified. He would have to accept Tauriel sooner or later, if the two fools stayed together, he knew, but this was a matter of pride.

"Greetings, Master Gandalf," Thorin rumbled. "It has been long since our last proper conversation."

"Thorin, when do you plan on your coronation taking place?" Gandalf asked, jumping right to it.

He frowned thoughtfully, considering the matter. "I wanted to do it separately from Bard, but his has come and gone."

"It would be wise to have it sooner rather than later," Gandalf said.

"To add to that, Thorin," Fíli interrupted, "when are Mother and the other dwarves we left back in the Blue Mountains going to come home?"

"That is a good question," Balin murmured. Bilbo nodded his agreement.

Thorin stroked his growing beard. "I would like our kin to be here for my coronation, especially my sister Dís."

"And I would like to see my mother again," Fíli added.

"If you will not be crowned until their return, then you ought to bring them back immediately," Gandalf concluded.

"Very well," Thorin agreed. "Tomorrow I will send an escort back to the Blue Mountains to lead Durin's folk home."

"Who will you send?" Bilbo asked.

"I will go," Fíli volunteered. "And Kíli will wish to come also."

"The group ought not to be too large," Thorin warned, "but for now that is too small. And they will need an experienced leader, as I will not be going myself."

"I will lead them," Balin said. "And I am sure we can find some others from the company. Glóin, perhaps? He would like to see his wife and son again, I am sure."

"Gimli will be so jealous when he hears of our adventures." Fíli chuckled.

"What about Tauriel?" Bilbo asked. "If Kíli goes, she will wish to go also."

"What about the elfmaid?" Thorin snapped.

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "What is this about Kíli and an elfmaid?"

"Kíli has gone and fallen in love with an elf," Fíli explained, disapproval tinging his voice, though not the outright disgust Thorin expressed with his angry scowl.

"Well!" the wizard exclaimed in surprise. "I have heard of elf and man couples, but never a union of elf and dwarf."

"And how did those couples end, with one immortal and one not?" Balin asked, concerned.

Gandalf frowned. "Some were already half-elven, half-man, having the choice to become mortal or elf in whole to stay with their beloved. Some were killed in times of war, though not because of their personal affairs. I do not foresee any problems until Kíli succumbs to mortality, which will be a few hundred years yet."

"I have no problems with Tauriel accompanying us," Balin said good-naturedly.

Fíli shrugged. "She may come, if she so wishes, I suppose."

Thorin scowled, but said, "She may go. She is none of my concern."

"I would like to speak with Kíli and this Tauriel," Gandalf announced. "You must sort out your escort to Ered Luin on your own. I will speak with you again tomorrow, Thorin." He put his hat back on and left, smiling at Bilbo.

"So. Balin, Fíli, Kíli, Tauriel, and Glóin if he wishes to," Thorin summed up. "Very well. Gather your supplies and prepare yourselves for the journey. You leave at first light."

* * *

Balin went to find Glóin and invite him along, relatively certain he would agree, and so Fíli went to look for his brother and the elf.

Truth be told, Fíli did not dislike Tauriel. She and Kíli were suited for each other. He only disliked her on principle—Uncle Thorin hated elves, so he must as well. Still, he had a feeling their relationship was headed for disaster. And giving them his blessing would be a blow to his pride, no matter how much Fíli regretted his hasty words back in the healing tents.

He roamed the halls of Erebor, searching for his brother.

"Have you seen Kíli?" he asked the first dwarf of the company he ran across.

"No," Óin answered. "Try the balcony, he and that elf go there sometimes."

"Thanks, Óin," Fíli replied, nodding and changing directions so he could head toward the balcony.

Before he even came in sight of the lovestruck couple—Mahal, the few times he hung near them they were disgustingly adorable—he could hear them talking, and another voice as well. Gandalf. So he really had gone in search of them.

Fíli stopped outside the balcony, not wanting them to catch him eavesdropping on their conversation.

"...will eventually die," Gandalf was saying, his tone kind but serious. "Dwarves are not immortal, after all."

"Yes," Kíli said, cautiously agreeing. "I did not claim I could live forever."

"My point is more to Tauriel than to you, Kíli," Gandalf said. Fíli imagined him frowning at the Silvan elfmaid. He half-hoped whatever cautions he was speaking to them would be enough to dissuade them, but he felt guilty even thinking that. He did want his brother to be happy.

"What will you do after he is gone and your heart is broken?" Gandalf pressed.

There was a long silence before Tauriel spoke. "I will travel. Or I will return to Mirkwood. Thranduil will take me back, I do think. Or...if the grief is too strong I may pass into the west. But I do think it will be better to love and live than to never love at all, living only in the shadow of regret."

"Well spoken," Gandalf said. "Very well. If you both understand and accept the risks, I have no issue giving my blessing to your marriage, though doubtless you were not looking for it."

"We haven't talked about marriage yet," Tauriel added hastily. "Someday, maybe. Yes. But for now, Kíli's company is enough for me."

"I think likewise," Kíli agreed.

Fíli, still loitering outside the balcony, decided that now was the time to make his entrance, before Gandalf left and discovered him eavesdropping. He stepped forward, nodding to the departing wizard.

"Fíli!" his brother greeted him with grin. Tauriel smiled at him as well, but hers was more forced.

"Hello, Kíli," he said. "I have important news."

"What is it?" Kíli asked curiously. He was sitting so close to Tauriel. Holding her hand. Fíli had never really understood why lovers did that. Honestly, he never really understood romance at all, having no interest in it.

"Tomorrow, Balin and I and perhaps Glóin, too, are leaving Erebor to return to the Blue Mountains and bring back the dwarves we left behind," Fíli explained. "You are invited to come—I thought you would like to see Mother again soon."

"I would," Kíli agreed. "To show her I'm not as reckless as she thought."

"You are as reckless as she thought," Tauriel commented. "You'd be dead if it weren't for me."

"But I'm not," he said teasingly. "I suppose you're right. Mother is in debt to you."

"Balin is leading us," Fíli continued, "and he says that Tauriel is welcome to join us as well."

Kíli smiled. "Wonderful!" He glanced up to his elfmaid questioningly.

"I would be glad to come with you," Tauriel said pleasantly. "Balin is the old one, correct?"

"Yes," Kíli confirmed. "He has been very good to Fíli and me when we were growing up without our father."

"So was Thorin," Fíli added. "You ought to reconcile with him, Kíli. It is not good for our family to be split like this."

"No," Kíli agreed, "and I will reconcile with him as soon as he accepts Tauriel."

"You will be waiting long," Fíli warned him.

"We will still be gone long on our journey to Ered Luin," Kíli reasoned. "Perhaps time will soften his heart."

"Or harden it further," Fíli said. He stood up. "Well, we ought to prepare ourselves for the coming journey. We leave at dawn."

* * *

It took Fíli only a few hours to pack his supplies for the trip. He soon drifted off to sleep, waking early the next morning from a shake on the shoulder.

"Get up, Fíli!" It was Kíli. "We're leaving!"

Their small groups set out only a few minutes later, passing Dale on their way toward the southern end of Mirkwood. Balin was leading them along a safer, albeit slower route this time, around the Misty Mountains rather than under them.

The journey was long but easy, taking them on safer, orcless road back home. The Blue Mountains were where Fíli had been both born and raised, and though the quest had been to most of the others to regain a homeland, for Fíli and Kíli it had been to discover one.

Fíli missed his mother. His memories of his father Víli were faint and distant, from a time long ago. Víli had been killed by orcs on a trade journey when Kíli was still in their mother Dís's belly.

It had been Thorin and Dís who had raised them, and as a result of their small, close-knit family he and Kíli had always been close. Fíli was more responsible, being the older of the two, and as a result, Kíli was the reckless child who made their mother worry. Kíli she had given a runestone to remember her, but Fíli she had sent off with only her love and a plea to be safe and protect his brother.

Fíli ran his hand along the scar in his side where the pale orc had run him through. He and Kíli had both agreed not to tell Dís about just how close they had come to dying in the Battle of the Five Armies. It had been Bilbo who had saved Fíli's life, so Thorin said, by throwing a rock at Azog's blade.

"A few inches to the left and there would have been nothing we could do to save you," one of the healer-elves, Tuines, had told him gravely. "You ought to thank your halfling."

It had pained Fíli to learn of what Kíli had done after his supposed death. Reckless he was indeed, rushing Azog's orcs head on. He had almost died for it. Thorin, too, had come close to dying. He couldn't bear the thought of his sacrifice having been in vain, or even worse, living to see its fail. He was glad everyone had survived.

They were very close to the dwarf settlement in Ered Luin now. The mountains loomed close by, and Fíli could see distant fires off to the north.

"One more day ought to bring us home," Balin announced as they set up camp. "And then the return journey comes."

"I am glad to be back," Glóin said. "One more day until I see Nigríd and Gimli again!"

"One more day until I can give Mother back the stone," Kíli murmured. Tauriel squeezed his hand. Fíli rolled his eyes. He was, admittedly, slowly warming to Tauriel. He definitely didn't  _dislike_  her, but he was worried about what Dís's reaction would be.

"Let's get some sleep," Balin ordered. "We march home on the morning."


	8. Promises

**Part Two: After the Storm  
** **Chapter Eight: Promises**

* * *

Kíli walked through the great oaken gates of the dwarf settlement, recalling the last time he had walked these paths. The gatekeeper was delighted to see them, though he frowned at Tauriel's presence. People in the streets gawked at his tall, beautiful starlight like they had never seen an elf before. To be fair, they probably never had.

" _Make way_!" Glóin shouted in Khuzdul, pushing through the crowds. " _I'm looking for my family_!"

"Do you remember where they live?" Kíli asked in Westron, for Tauriel's benefit.

"Of course, I lived there for years!" the red-bearded dwarf replied. "It's this way!"

"You lived on the same street as we did," Fíli recalled. "We can see Mother soon after."

"Do you think your mother will like me?" Tauriel asked him quietly, self-consciousness tinging her voice.

Kíli frowned. He wished he could assure her that all would work out, but truth be told, he didn't know if it would. Dís, too, had been there when Thranduil turned aside before Erebor's ashes, and as she had never talked of elves, he did not know if she hated them just as much as Thorin did.

"I don't know," he admitted. "She's usually more reasonable than Uncle Thorin, but she's never spoken to us about elves."

Tauriel frowned. Kíli squeezed her hand. "It's all right, Tauriel," he comforted her. "Even if my mother doesn't like you, I'll still love you, my starlight."

Her worried face split into a beautiful smile. She was so different from any dwarf, tall and lithe and beardless, yet she did not seem ugly to him like some of the other dwarves viewed her. Kíli had always thought himself ugly, with small ears and a thin, scruffy beard he could not get to grow further no matter how hard he tried, but Tauriel claimed he had some kind of elven beauty and kindness within him. She warmed his heart.

They walked through the streets of the settlement until at last Kíli recognized this road as the one he had lived on since childhood. Glóin was almost sprinting now, so eager was he to be reunited with his wife and son.

"Slow down, Glóin!" Balin chuckled. "Nigríd and Gimli can wait a few seconds longer."

"But I cannot!" Glóin exclaimed. He reached his house and knocked firmly, breathing hard in exhaustion and excitement.

"I will be glad to see Gimli again," Kíli remarked as the rest of their group came up behind Glóin.

"Were you friends with his son, then?" Tauriel asked.

Kíli nodded. "Gimli was so upset when his father and Thorin would not allow him to come along on the quest! Alas, he was too young. Still, it would have been nice to not have been the youngest." Ori actually came very close to being the same age as him, he recalled after he said that, but he wasn't sure exactly how old the young dwarf truly was.

The door opened. A young, red-bearded dwarf stared through the opening, confusion clouding his face. Gimli—for it was he—recognized his father and broke into a smile, throwing himself into Glóin's arms.

" _Father_!" he cried in Khuzdul. " _You are back! We have missed you ever so!_ "

"Gimli, there is one with us not  _khazad_ ," Glóin scolded as father and son broke apart. "We must speak the common tongue."

Gimli peered around, looking for the non-dwarf member of their party. "An elf?" he exclaimed as he laid eyes upon Tauriel.

She smiled at him. "Greetings,  _mellon_ ; that is, friend."

"Why is an elf with you?" a new voice said. It was Nigríd, Gloin's wife.

"I will explain later," Balin said, interrupting the couple's reunion. "Nigríd! You look well. Glóin missed you very every day he was gone."

"Fíli! Kíli!" Gimli exclaimed. "How was the journey? I assume all went well?"

"It did," Fíli answered. "We will all soon be living happily in Erebor."

"And who is the elf?" the red-bearded lad asked, wrinkling his nose. Kíli felt a sudden flash of irritation, both for his hasty dislike of Tauriel and out of jealousy of the younger dwarf's thick beard.

"I am Tauriel," she introduced herself. "I come from Mirkwood the Great, but a fondness has grown between your friend Kíli and I, and we travel together now."

"It is good to see you again, Gimli!" Kíli said in greeting to his old friend. Gimli looked at him in amazement, but he made no further comment on Tauriel's presence.

Fíli nudged his side. "We ought to go see Mother now," he muttered. "Say goodbye. Bring Tauriel."

"We're going to see Mother," Kíli announced. "Goodbye, Gimli!"

"See you later, Kíli and Fíli!" Gimli said, waving to them as they departed.

Dís's house was the next one over. Fíli knocked quietly on the door. Kíli smiled up at Tauriel who stared worriedly at the door.

Mother soon answered. Dís was tall, at least for a dwarf, and it was from her where Kíli got his unusual height. Her hair was dark and long, braided and plaited elaborately. Her beard grew thickest on her cheeks, thinning out into wisps around her chin, and her hair was streaked with a regal silver, much like Uncle Thorin. It was darker than Kíli's, closer to her brother's in the exact color. Her eyes were brown, darker than Thorin's, and she had given their color to Kíli. Dís had once said that Fíli looked like their father Víli, where Kíli most resembled herself. She wore gold beads in her hair and beard, tying together her beard with a single silver bead.

Kíli watched her as she looked at her sons, her eyes slowly widening with relief and joy. Her eyes then wandered up to see Tauriel. She stared at her for a few moments, then looked back down to Fíli and Kíli.

"My sons," she murmured, holding out her arms for an embrace. "Welcome home."

Kíli fell into his mother's arms. He hugged her tightly, breathing in her warm, familiar smell. Tears filled his eyes as he touched his mother for the first time in nearly a year. He had come home.

At last, Kíli and Dís broke apart. Fíli smiled at them, then stepped forward to embrace his mother as well. Tauriel stood behind them, watching the familial reunion at a respectful distance.

"Fíli, Kíli...come in," Dís said with a merry laugh in her deep, rich voice. "Bring your friend, we must be introduced."

Tauriel ducked her head as she came through the low door. "Watch your head," Dís said, a little too late. "This is a dwarvish house, I don't think an elf has ever been here before."

Tauriel smiled. "I am honored to be the first, my lady."

"No need for that," Dís said dismissively as they moved into the sitting room. "You can just call me Dís."

"And I am Tauriel," she said. "I come from Mirkwood, far to the east."

Fíli sat down beside his mother. Kíli and Tauriel sat across from her. Dís leaned forward in her chair, raising one thick eyebrow. "Mirkwood. Tell me, how did it come you traveled with my kin back to Ered Luin?"

"We met her on the way to Erebor," Kíli interrupted. "She and the other woodelves captured us in their forest, actually. We escaped, eventually, but Tauriel and I had become acquainted...she came after us. She healed me from some foul orc's poison in Lake-town. It is thanks to her that I could keep my promise to you, mother."

He took the rune stone out from his pocket, extending his hand to his mother. "Here it is. And I have returned."

Dís smiled at him fondly, but closed his hand over the stone. "Keep it, Kíli, so you may always remember." Then she turned back to Tauriel, still curious and even a little suspicious. "I thank you, Tauriel of Mirkwood, for saving my son's life, but that is still no reason to return here with him and his brother."

Tauriel nodded. "This is true. There is more to the tale. After the death of Smaug—for yes, the dragon is perished—there was a great battle between orcs, elves, dwarves, and men. The Battle of the Five Armies, it is called, and in it I saved Kíli's life again. But between Mirkwood and Laketown, Dale and Erebor, the east and here now, we have grown fond of each other."

Kíli reached out and took Tauriel's hand, kissing it gently. " _Amrâlimê,_ " he said again:  _my love_. Dís spoke Khuzdul; she would know what it meant.

Mother widened her eyes and opened her mouth in shock. She glanced over at Fíli. "What do you think of this, Fíli?" she asked him.

He shrugged. Kíli bit his lip, his heart pounding. He loved his mother. He could bear Uncle Thorin's rejection, he could stand Fíli's distant disapproval, but he did not know if he could handle his mother's opposition.

"It is strange," Fíli said, "and I think they are foolish; but if it brings them joy, let them have it."

Dís pursed her lips. "And what does Thorin say?"

"He does not accept Tauriel," Kíli admitted.

She sighed, shaking her head. "Fíli may be right. You are both fools. But I think other than my brother." She smiled at the couple knowingly. "Durin's heirs have suffered much grief already. Let us have joy now that the storm has passed and the smoke cleared. I give you my blessing, Kíli and Tauriel, and my love."

Kíli grinned in relief. "Thank you, Mother," he exclaimed. He scooted closer to Tauriel and pulled her down closer to him, kissing her firmly on the lips.

He could tell Fíli was rolling his eyes and Dís was laughing, but in that moment, Kíli, son of Dís and Víli, heir of Durin, did not care. He promised himself he would love Tauriel for as long as he lived and longer, and some promises could never be broken.


	9. A Matter of Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might become a little scarcer. School's started, and I'm in my school play, so I'm busier than I was last summer.

**Part Three: King Under the Mountain  
** **Chapter Nine: A Matter of Mind**

* * *

It had been several months since Balin had led his party out of Erebor and toward Ered Luin. In that time, Thorin and Dáin had almost completed their renovations of Erebor. Once reinforcements from the Iron Hills, and even some help from the other clans, the repairs sped up. Thorin was pleased with what was now his home, and excited to show off Erebor to his kin in the Blue Mountains, when they arrived.

Mostly, though, he was excited for his coronation. Thorin had spent a long time trying to regain the Lonely Mountain and his inheritance as Durin's heir. Now it was time for his hard work to come to be rewarded.

No one doubted his right to rule, not even himself. There was one thing that bothered him, though: what had become of the Arkenstone?

Thorin could not deny he still greatly desired to possess it. He would have inquired of it to King Bard, with whom he had last seen it, but he was hesitant to do so. He did not want the sight of the stone to trigger a relapse into the dragonsickness which had nearly caused his doom.

He thought to ask his counselors of the matter. Balin was still gone on the long journey to bring back their people, and Fíli and Kíli with him, but he still had Dwalin, perhaps his closest friend among the company, Dáin, his faithful cousin, the halfling Bilbo, who had proved himself over and over again, and the ever-elusive Gandalf, who wandered off but reappeared every once and a while.

The next time he saw Gandalf among the crowd of working dwarves, he bullied the wizard into joining him in his council room for a meeting. A bored-looking off-duty dwarf was quickly sent to gather up Dáin, Bilbo, and Dwalin. Thorin wanted to have this meeting now, while Gandalf was still in the area.

"What is this about?" Gandalf demanded, taking his hat off and bending over to pass through the dwarf-sized door.

Thorin sat down at the head of the council table. "There is something I must discuss with my counselors."

"I did not know I was included in that number," Gandalf said, smiling a bit slyly.

Thorin grunted. "Given the nature of the subject, I wanted your advice. Pray I don't change my mind."

The Gray Wizard raised an eyebrow in a disapproving fashion, but Thorin ignored him as Bilbo, Dwalin, and Dáin walked in and took seats close to Thorin. He nodded to Bilbo, sitting on his right, with a smile, and then to his cousin and old friend.

"Hello, Thorin," Bilbo piped up, a genial smile on his babyish face.

"What are we here for, cousin?" Dáin asked. Dwalin nodded, looking him in the eyes.

Thorin glanced at Gandalf, then said in his rumbling voice, "My coronation is approaching. I thought it might be a good to plan for it being as soon as Balin returns with our kin."

"Give them a day to rest, or so," Bilbo advised.

"Yes," Dwalin agreed. "But then would be a good time."

"Who will crown you?" Dáin asked.

Thorin looked at Gandalf. "I was hoping our friend Gandalf would."

The wizard, after a moment's thought, nodded in agreement. "Yes. Good. I will do it."

"Which crown will you use? Your grandfather's?" Dwalin asked.

Thorin shook his head. "No, not that one." There were too many memories of the dragonsickness attached to that crown. "I was hoping for a new one to be made."

"You'd have to order its production soon," Dáin said. "Balin will come back any day now."

"Yes," Thorin agreed. After a moment's hesitation, "I was thinking, perhaps, if we could get it back from Bard...we fulfilled our end of the bargain, after all...the Arkenstone could serve as a crown jewel."

"No!" Bilbo protested immediately. Thorin, taken aback by such a vehement response, blinked at the burglar in shock. A bit of the old resentment began to bubble up inside him. Did this runt know to whom he spoke? What authority did this traitorous outsider have against him?

Bilbo continued, speaking quickly and nervously as though he could hear Thorin's thoughts. "It's just—I think it might make you go back to the way you were. Under the...dragonsickness. It might make it worse."

Suddenly disgusted and alarmed by his previous thoughts, Thorin blinked firmly. Bilbo was right. It was lust for the Arkenstone which had made him spiral into his illness, and the same remnants of the disease which lurked in the back of his mind which made him wary to trust and so quick to anger.

"It is the heirloom of our people!" Dáin protested. "How this man came by the Arkenstone in the first place—"

As Bilbo squirmed uncomfortably, Dwalin broke in, "What's done is done. We must decide what to do next. I think Bilbo might be right. You were not here when Thorin was under the dragonsickness, Lord Dáin...it was not good."

"I think the wisest course of action would be to rid yourself of the thing altogether," Gandalf put in. "It has certain powers to ensnare the mind...and if one  _must_  put themselves in close proximity to such a thing, it ought to be sparingly used. If you do take it back, put it in some deep treasury under lock and key, not in your crown."

"The dwarves coming back will want to see it," Dáin said. "To know that you are truly the king."

Thorin frowned. He had been silent thus far while the others discussed. It was time for him to make a decision. He sorely wanted the stone, and he could not seem weak to his people, but Gandalf was right—it was a dangerous thing. Frowning, he made up his mind.

"We will take the stone back from Bard," he said slowly. "We will put it in the treasury. On my coronation day, I will hold the jewel up to the crowd and show my people. Then, after they are satisfied...it will go back to the treasury for good."

Gandalf nodded his approval. "A good plan." Bilbo agreed, seeming relieved.

"Very wise, your Majesty," Dwalin murmured. Then he gave Thorin a half-hearted grin.

Dáin sniffed. "This is your kingdom, Thorin. You make the decisions, even if perhaps they are not the best."

Thorin chuckled and elbowed his cousin playfully. "Perhaps you can afford to lose your mind, but I'd rather keep mine intact."

Dáin grinned. "Well said." Then his belly rumbled loudly. The dwarves in the room all laughed.

"I guess it's suppertime, then," Dwalin said.

"Let us adjourn," Thorin agreed.


	10. A Warm Welcome

Balin's company arrived in Erebor only a week later. Fíli and Kíli looked on the half-rebuilt city of Dale and the bustling walls of once cold, dark Erebor in amazement. So much work had been done in their absence!

The journey back had taken much longer than the journey to Ered Luin, mostly due to the hundreds of dwarves they were bringing home. The increased numbers slowed them down greatly. Some had elected to remain in the Blue Mountains, having found a home among the Firebeards and Broadbeams, but most of the Longbeard dwarves, Durin's folk, had come back to Erebor.

Fíli was at the head of the company, behind Balin, leading the way. He was excited to return and to watch Uncle Thorin's coronation. It was a momentous occasion. Someday, he would be king of Erebor, after Thorin died or retired, but Fíli hoped that day was long in coming. For now, he was happy to be simply a prince.

There was a welcoming party in Dale for the dwarves. King Bard was very gracious to his new neighbors, for all they had almost gone to war the previous winter. Fíli, as Thorin's heir, acted as the group's leader, even though technically, Balin had been in charge until then.

The older dwarf, however, was happy to turn the role over to Fíli. The golden-haired prince thought he did a pretty good job of interacting with Bard. Kíli was impressed—he told his brother he'd done even a better job that Thorin would have. Fíli didn't know if that was quite true, but it certainly could have been much worse.

The next morning, Fíli led his people across the plain toward Erebor. They knew they were coming. His family rode with him up front. Dís smiled, looking elegant in a formal court gown, as she gazed again upon her former home.

Kíli talked excitedly with Tauriel, something about archery. Fíli had warmed to the elf girl after she had proved to outshoot him on a hunting trip on the journey back. She had then made a fool of herself laughing along with Kíli as they prepared the deer she had shot for dinner. And the radiant look on Kíli's face when he spoke with her had proved to him that she was good for his brother.

When Dís had not stopped them, his resolve against their relationship had begun to crumble. Now it was almost gone. Many of the Longbeards had accepted her as one of their own, though most resented their younger prince's choice in bride. Fíli only dreaded Uncle Thorin's coldness. If he continued to act the way he had before their departure, he would tear their family apart.

As they neared the gates of Erebor, Fíli saw the dwarves of the company, plus Lord Dáin and Bilbo, waiting for them. The dwarves from the Blue Mountains cheered as Thorin began to clap, a broad smile on his face.

Fíli walked up to his uncle with open arms, and they embraced. Then the king of Erebor hugged Kíli as well, while Tauriel lingered in the background.

At last, Lady Dís approached her brother. She nodded to him, smiling crookedly.

"So this is what you've done to our mountain," she said.

Thorin laughed and kissed his sister's hand. "I tried my best, sister."

* * *

The coronation of King Thorin II Oakenshield of Erebor occurred two days later. The royal family watched with pride as Thorin's newly-crafted crown was lowered onto his head by the grey wizard.

"The Lord of Silver Fountains has returned," Gandalf intoned solemnly. "May his reign be long and blessed, and may the rivers run with wine and gold!"

The watching crowd began to cheer. Thorin stood and they all knelt to their king.

"Rise, my brethren," Thorin commanded. As Fíli got to his feet, he continued, "Today, I am crowned your king. I know what you must be thinking: what of the king's jewel?"

Fíli stirred uneasily. He had almost forgotten about the Arkenstone. Was Thorin about to take it back? Did he already have it back from Bard? Would he fall into the jewel's thrall again?

"Well, I have regained our heirloom," Thorin announced. "Bring for the Arkenstone!"

Bilbo walked forward, bearing the heart of the mountain on a cushion. Fíli smiled at the irony—the thief of the stone now carried Thorin's position of trust once more.

Thorin lifted the jewel off the cushion and held it up for all to see. The crowd oohed and ahhed in appreciation.

"I, Thorin Oakenshield, am King of the Lonely Mountain!" he cried. "I carry the king's jewel, and may it be a symbol to all of my right to rule!"

A moment later, he brought down his hands. Fíli's heart lurched as he saw a glint of the old gold lust in his uncle's eyes. After an incredibly long heartbeat, Thorin tore his gaze away from the stone and thrust it back to Bilbo.

"Now, eat and drink!" Thorin said, his booming voice full of forced cheer. "Make merry—tonight is a night of feasting and song!"

With an enthusiastic cheer, the spectators passed out of the throne room and hurried into the mess hall. Where there was food to be found, dwarves soon followed.

Fíli hung behind, watching Thorin stand still by the throne, staring after where Bilbo had carried away the Arkenstone. His Uncle's gaze was empty and cold, and Fíli felt a chill run down his spine. At last, when only he and Thorin remained in the chamber, the king caught sight of him.

He smiled. "Fíli, my sister-son. Come to the feast with me."

"Yes, Thorin," he said, nodding. He walked up to his uncle and they walked away into the mess hall.

"Are you alright, Uncle Thorin?" he asked. "With the Arkenstone and all?"

"Yes," he said, though Fíli wasn't convinced of it entirely. "Yes, I am...or I will be."

"Where is it going to be stored?" Fíli asked. "Not...where you could be tempted?"

"It's being taken care of," Thorin said firmly. "Bilbo and Gandalf...they're putting it deep in the treasury, under lock and key. I'll be fine."

"Okay," Fíli said. He mulled that over as they joined the rest of the dwarves in the mess hall, until his mind drifted to the more important matter of food.

* * *

Several hours later, everyone in the hall had grown friendly with wine. Only Tauriel, though she drank liberally, remained sober. Elves, it seemed, handled alcohol better than dwarves.

Fíli sat with his brother and the elfmaid, laughing at one of Nori's absurd stories. He was in a wonderful mood. There was good music playing, his family was all around him, and even the elf seemed pretty for once.

"And  _then_ ," Nori continued while the others laughed around him, "then the old fool  _buys his watch back from me_! The watch I stole from him in the place!"

The company howled with laughter. Fíli hiccuped, grinning and slapping Nori's hand away when he got too close to his own pocket watch.

Tauriel smiled. "Did he ever find out you took it from him?" she asked the intoxicated thief.

Nori giggled. "Nope! Nor did he find out when I stole his monocle off him the next week that I done it!"

A few tables down was a group of dwarves from Ered Luin. One of them, eyes bloodshot from all the ale he'd drunk, remarked loudly to his neighbor, "Look at that ugly elf lass! Still hangin' around the prince. It's disgrace, I say, a disgrace.."

Immediately, Kíli, who had been hunched over with merriment besides his elfmaid, stood up.

"Who said that?" he demanded. Their area of the hall went silent. Kíli sounded furious, his face dark with anger. "Who called  _amrâlimê_  ugly?"

"Kíli, sit down, it's not a big deal—" Tauriel hissed, trying to pull him down.

Kíli pushed her hand away and looked around again. "Who said that?" he demanded.

The dwarf who'd made the rude remark stood up, his face flushed red. "I said it, 'n I don't take it back! Elf and dwarf ought not to mix!"

"Kíli," Fíli warned as he saw his brother's clenched fists tremble, "don't do anything you might regret."

"By insulting my lady Tauriel, you insult  _me_ ," Kíli growled, ignoring Fíli. "This elf saved my life. She and her people helped us take back our homeland!"

"If she saved your life, perhaps she has addled your brains, your  _Highness_ ," the arrogant dwarf said with a sneer.

Enraged, Kíli leapt toward the dwarf and began to attack him. As Tauriel stood up behind him and raised her voice in protest, Fíli roared in outrage. Though Kíli was being reckless again, he was on his brother's side. Fíli jumped after him, tearing at their opponent's ragged beard.

" _Stop!_ " a commanding voice bellowed. Fíli let go immediately and fell back, fearing that wrathful tone he knew all too well.

"Yes, Mother," he said meekly. An angry Dís was not someone to mess with.

Kíli, however, ignored his mother and kept punching the insolent dwarf. Dís reached out and tore them apart, displaying her fearsome strength.

The offending dwarf went limp, covered in bruises. Kíli, on the other hand, kept struggling until Dís dropped the other one and smacked him into stillness.

Thorin strode up to the group, a scowl on his face. "What's all this about?" he demanded.

Tauriel stepped forward, a cross expression contracting her usually delicate features. "Your Majesty, I can explain—"

"He  _insulted_  her!" Kíli protested from his position on the ground. "He insulted  _us_!"

"That is no excuse for acting like a child," Dís said firmly. "We ought to settle this matter in a civilized fashion, not with brawling."

"Kíli,  _really_ , I can defend myself, you know," Tauriel admonished him. She held out a hand and leaned down to help her beloved to his feet. "And I know what your people think of me, even if they do not say it often to my face. It is fine. I do not expect to be accepted readily, or even at all."

Kíli sighed and took the Silvan elf's hand. When he stood up, he helped his opponent up as well.

"I'm sorry," he apologized stiffly, "for acting so improperly. But I do not forgive the insult against my starlight."

Fíli sighed and rolled his eyes. Lovers and their stupid nicknames for each other.

The other dwarf had a broken nose and a black eye. He only glared at Kíli and spat at his feet.

Thorin growled in disapproval. "You cannot treat the royal family so, citizen. I am of half a mind to punish you for this offence!"

The dwarf paled a little beneath his injuries. "I'm s-sorry," he stammered. "I was just—"

"I don't care," Thorin snapped. Then he turned to face the hall of half-drunk, now-silent dwarves. "Hear my word, all my subjects! I, your king, hereby command that all shall treat the elves of Mirkwood with courtesy. We are not enemies, but friends in this time of peace! And especially we ought to treat this noble with respect, for she had saved this kingdom with her bow and healing knowledge, and she is the beloved of my sister-son Kíli!"

Tauriel blinked in shock and covered her mouth in surprise. Then she curtsied to Thorin, murmuring her thanks. Kíli's eyes were wide, but he beamed with happiness. Fíli was just as shocked as they were. How had Thorin managed to overcome his hatred of elves to support and accept Tauriel?

Thorin took the elf maiden's hand and kissed it. Tauriel smiled, holding Kíli's hand with her other.

"I suppose if you're really going to become family, I ought to apologize," Thorin murmured, straightening. The crowd, once they saw he was done, went back to merrymaking. "I was unchivalrous to you, and to you, Kíli."

"Thank you, Uncle Thorin," Kíli said warmly, clasping his uncle's hand.

"I suppose I should apologize to you as well," Tauriel said, "for assuming you would make things worse tonight."

Thorin laughed. "Apology accepted," he said. "After all, I haven't been acting my best."

Fíli sighed, glad this family tension had been worked out at last. Then he picked up his wine bottle and lifted it.

"A drink to a happy family," he proposed. They all laughed, then took a sip of wine. All was well.


	11. Meleth Nîn

**Part Three: King Under the Mountain  
** **Chapter Eleven: Meleth Nîn**

* * *

Kíli was incredibly relieved Thorin had finally accepted Tauriel and begun to treat her kindly. There was much less tension between their family. Dís had grown very fond of his beloved, and Fíli had warmed to her as a comrade. After Thorin had publicly defended her, those of the Company who had not already accepted her did so.

There were still comments, of course, which infuriated Kíli, but Tauriel dealt with them coolly and calmly. Kíli didn't try to harm anyone over the matter after that first incident, but sometimes he sorely wanted to.

All in all, most of the dwarves of Erebor treated her if not kindly, at least cordially. Kíli could sense they did this not out of acceptance for Tauriel, but out of respect for Thorin's command. Well, it was better than nothing.

Kíli was almost constantly beside Tauriel for the first few months back in Erebor. As time grew on, though, she began to make friends of her own, leaving him to himself at times.

At first, this made him uneasy—what if something happened to her, and he wasn't there to defend her?

When he voiced this concern to Tauriel, she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Kíli, you're very sweet and noble,  _meleth nîn_ , but I'm  _perfectly_  capable of defending myself. I  _was_  the Captain of the Guard back in Mirkwood, you know. Besides, Thorin's command would stop that."

Kíli scowled, knowing she was right. "But  _what if_ —"

"Kíli!" she said sharply, frowning. "I am a fighting elf. Maybe it is not the custom of your people for the women to be so, but among the Eldar we know women have minds of their own!"

"I never said you didn't have a mind!" Kíli protested, wondering how this had all gone so wrong so quickly.

"You teeter on the verge of insulting me," she snapped. "I'm going up to the plain. I need some fresh air. It's too stuffy in this dwarvish hole!"

"Tauriel—" he protested, watching as she threw off her dwarven cloak, a gift from him, and donned a light elvish jacket instead.

"Don't come after me," she said, storming out her room, leaving Kíli standing helplessly and wondering what he had done wrong.

Immediately, he ran over to Dís's room. His mother would know what to do.

When he told Dís what had gone on, she only smiled.

"You're just having a bit of a fight, that's all," she said comfortingly. "It happens, especially when the novelty of a relationship wears off. Just wait for her to cool down a bit."

"What did I do wrong?" he implored.

Dís shrugged. "From what you said, it sounds like you were being too protective. It's sweet of you to worry about her, but she's no gentle dwarf maiden who wants to be fussed over. She's a bright and fiery elf. She needs to be free, Kíli."

"I know that!" Kíli protested. "It's part of why I love her!"

"She loves you, too," Dís said, placing her hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "But she doesn't like it here, beneath the mountain. She needs open air. She needs to see the stars. And...even though she's made some friends here, she doesn't feel at home."

"Does she want to go back to Mirkwood?" he asked, full of apprehension. If she did, he would follow her, though not gladly.

"No, lad," Dís said gently. "She wants to get married and leave Erebor for some place more open."

Kíli froze in shock. "M-married?" he stammered.

"Do you not want to marry her?"

"No, I do, I do!" Kíli exclaimed. "But...so soon?"

"It's been nearly a year since you two met," Dís said. "I do believe, from what Tauriel's told me, that elvish courtship takes a long time, but she's a bit frightened by what that wizard told you. You're mortal, Kíli, and she's not. Tauriel knows she's only got so much time with you before you die, and she wants to make it a good time."

"Oh," Kíli said quietly, suddenly understanding. He'd heard what Gandalf had told them, of course, but it hadn't seemed like a big deal to him then. It would be a long time before he died, of course—he was very young for a dwarf planning to marry. But Tauriel, already six hundred, would not see the two hundred or so years they had left together as incredibly long.

"So...what should I do?" he asked. "Propose? Right after we had a fight?"

Dís sat and thought for a moment. "Let her cool down. When she comes back, apologize and let the matter lie for a couple of days. Don't propose right away. But think about it, and don't wait too long. A month at the most."

Kíli nodded. "Thanks, Mother," he told her gratefully.

"I'm glad to help," Dís said, patting him on the back.

* * *

When Tauriel returned the next morning, Kíli was waiting for her, having spent the night on the floor of her room.

"Tauriel!" he exclaimed as she walked in, casting off her jacket.

"Kíli," she said, a little stiffly. Kíli was pained to see her so unhappy, and even more so that it was his fault.

"Tauriel,  _amrâlimê_ ," he began, a note of pleading in his voice, "I'm so sorry for what I said last night. I was wrong to think you needed my protection, and I've been wrong to keep you here in Erebor for so long."

Tauriel looked at him for a long moment, taken aback. Then she smiled, looking down at her feet, then back up at him.

"I am sorry, too," she admitted, "for running off so quickly."

"If you want, we could go somewhere else," he offered. "We could live in Dale, or—or even Mirkwood, if you wanted to go back home."

Tauriel smiled and walked over to him. She took his hand and leaned down for a kiss. Kíli stood up on his tiptoes and met her lips with his own.

When they broke apart, Kíli smiled. "You forgive me, then?"

"Of course,  _meleth nîn_ ," Tauriel murmured. Kíli's heart warmed happily. Those words meant the same as  _amrâlimê_  did in his language—"my love"—but in her elvish tongue, Sindarin, of which she'd been teaching him a few words so they might communicate in a language other than the mannish Westron. In return, Kíli had taught her some phrases in Khuzdul, though he'd told her to keep quiet about it. It was a private language, supposed to be used only by the dwarves, and not even Dís would defend him if someone found out an elf knew some of the language.

"I would like to leave Erebor," Tauriel admitted. "Your dwarf city is wonderful, but I miss the open air. I do not want to live in a city, though, and I would not subject you to the terrors of Mirkwood." She grinned at him, pleased with her little joke.

"Thank Mahal," Kíli said with a relieved smile. "If you don't want to live in Erebor, Dale, or Mirkwood, then, where do you want to live?"

Tauriel smiled. "I was thinking a little house between here and the Greenwood, close enough to visit but far enough to be a quiet place."

"That sounds wonderful," Kíli murmured, squeezing her hand. "We could live there, just the two of us, and...maybe some children, eventually."

Tauriel smiled dreamily. "That would be nice. But before then, we could go travel. Maybe as ambassadors or messengers for your uncle, or for Thranduil."

"Yes!" Kíli agreed enthusiastically. "We could visit the realms of men—Rohan and Gondor in the south. Or we could go to the Shire again, to see Bilbo, if he goes back home eventually, and more hobbits."

Tauriel grinned. "Of course," she said, looking away, "before we have that little house and we can travel..."

"We should get married," Kíli blurted out, ignoring all his mother's advice.

Tauriel blushed. "Yes. We should."

"Mother said you were worried I was taking so long to ask," Kíli admitted.

"I've only got so long with you," Tauriel said softly. "I want to be married for most of that time."

"Dwarvish courtship involves lots of gift-giving," he said, "but we've been doing that for a while."

"It's the elvish custom the engagement last a year," she told him, "but I think we can overlook that."

"So we're...really going to do this?" Kíli asked, trembling a little. He was excited, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Tauriel, but he was a little nervous. This was a big step in life.

"Well, not right now," Tauriel said quickly. "We ought to have a ceremony first, with dwarvish and elvish customs mixed—"

"What do you mean?" Kíli asked. He was a bit confused. "The ceremony  _is_  the wedding."

Tauriel giggled, turning a little pink. "Oh. I guess elven customs are really that much different."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She giggled again, looking at him sidelong. "Well, it's customary among the Eldar to have a ceremony—exchanging vows and rings and such. It's usually private, with only the family of the couple in attendance. Then comes the actual wedding. To elves, a couple is only married in the eyes of the Valar after consummation."

"Oh!" Kíli exclaimed, suddenly understanding. That made sense from how Tauriel had acted before. On the occasion their kissing had become heated, she had always pulled away. He had understood—he hadn't felt quite ready for sex then either, and it was customary, though not mandatory, for couples to wait until after the vows in dwarvish culture, too—but now it was apparent that while she may have desired it, sex was considered a more sacred thing to her people than to his.

"We usually wait," Kíli said, a little awkwardly, "but it's not the same as marriage to us."

"We will have a ceremony first," Tauriel said, as if making sure.

"Yes, of course!" he replied. "When ought it to be?"

"It is nearing autumn," she observed. "Perhaps after the harvest is in?"

"What about the day after Durin's Day?" he suggested. "We could have a small wedding, out in the countryside. The celebrations will be over with for our holiday, so we could make it a holiday of our own."

"Yes," Tauriel agreed, her eyes alight. "Who will be in attendance? We could have a larger ceremony than usual. My parents died when I was young, so I would have no family to bring if this were a traditional wedding."

"My mother, Fíli, and Uncle Thorin, of course," Kíli said automatically. "And the rest of the company, and Gimli. Perhaps even Dáin would like to come, if he could spare the time." The Lord of the Iron Hills had returned home after Thorin's coronation, but Kíli knew he would come back to visit with any given excuse.

Tauriel sighed. "I would invite Thranduil and Legolas, but I fear they would not come."

"Of course they would!" Kíli exclaimed. "For all their disagreements with you, they  _do_  love you. What about your friends from Mirkwood?"

Tauriel frowned. "Hithwen and Gwelonir, the elves who healed you, they helped to raise me after my parents' death. And perhaps Feren—he trained me in the Guard before I became Captain."

"Good, we'll write to them," Kíli said. He had begun to write down a list of names. "Do you think we ought to invite King Bard?"

"Do we know him well enough?" Tauriel asked.

Kíli shrugged. "You did heal me in his house back in Lake-town, after all, and his children are fond of you."

"Why not?" she said, laughing. "Oh, Kíli, I love you. I'm so happy we're going to be married!"

He leaned forward for a kiss, murmuring, "I love you too, Tauriel."


	12. The Announcement

**Part Three: King Under the Mountain  
** **Chapter Twelve: The Announcement**

* * *

Bilbo was quite enjoying his stay in Erebor. He had gotten his own rooms in Erebor, with a nice bookshelf and a quality armchair, and dwarven-style clothes to call his own. He spoke with the Company often and had grown quite attached to some of the other inhabitants of the great kingdom, including Thorin's sister, Dís, and Kíli's elven sweetheart, Tauriel. He'd also become friends with Glóin's son and wife, Gimli and Nigrid, and often had dinner with them in their own home.

One day, he was happily dozing in his armchair, a book lying open on his lap. He was half-asleep, thinking about the contents of the book (a cheesy dwarven romance novel), when the thought crossed his mind of how his plants back home were doing.

Suddenly he sat upright, his eyes wide, broken out of his reverie. It had been nearly a year and a half since he had left the Shire! Oh no...his house would be cluttered with dust and the unwashed plates he'd eaten on the day he left would be so filthy he'd have to toss them out! His plants would be dead, and he suspected that his awful cousins, the Sackville-Bagginses, might be sneaking around Bag End and hoping he really was dead so they could steal his house away from him.

Bilbo suddenly missed his home more than he had previously enjoyed living in a restored Erebor with his new friends. He had done what he set out to do. It was time to go home.

He smiled. He would miss Thorin and the rest of the company, for sure, but it was not as if they couldn't write or even visit occasionally. He needed to go home.

Decisively, he stood up and walked out of his rooms, ready to tell Thorin of his decision.

He walked into the king's meeting room to find him laughing with Dwalin about something he had missed. As soon as Thorin saw him, he grinned and beckoned him over.

"Bilbo! Come, sit down!" the king said merrily. Bilbo smiled in return and sat.

"Thorin, I have something to say," he announced.

"Well, what is it?" Thorin asked.

"I've come all this way, and I've helped you regain your home, but the day has come for me to go back to my own home and bid you farewell," he said, and not a little regretfully. He would miss this proud, stubborn, and kind dwarf, and all those who had traveled with him. But it was time to leave.

Thorin's happy smiled crumbled into an expression of dismay. "Realy? But you're happy here, aren't you?"

"Yes, of course!" he said hastily, "but I'll be happier in my home."

"Well, if that truly is the case, I will have to accompany you home," Thorin said firmly. "Fíli can act as ruler in my absence—he will need practice for when he is king, and—"

Before Bilbo could protested that he could go home all on his own, Prince Kíli and his lovely elf maiden Tauriel walked in, bright grins on their faces.

"Uncle Thorin!" Kíli exclaimed. "We have decided to get married, the day after Durin's Day!"

Thorin blinked in shock, and a soft sigh of resignation escaped his lips. Bilbo smiled knowingly.

"Well, this is wonderful news!" Dwalin exclaimed with a nod to Tauriel. "Will you remain here in Erebor?"

"No," Tauriel said. "We were hoping his Majesty could send us on a diplomatic mission after we are wed, so that we might see more of the world."

"That can be arranged," Thorin agreed.

"The whole company is invited, of course," Kíli said. "You included, Bilbo."

He blinked. "Well, I was actually planning on returning to the Shire soon."

"You'll stay for the wedding, of course?" Thorin asked.

Bilbo mulled it over. Though he certainly wanted to go home, he knew that waiting even a few months more would not make much of a difference. And he was very fond of Kíli and his bride-to-be.

"Yes, of course," he agreed.

"Your first diplomatic mission could be to the Shire," Dwalin suggested. "Accompanying Bilbo home."

"Where is Fíli?" Kíli asked, looking around as if he expected to see his brother appear in the meeting room before his eyes.

"He went with Ori and Gimli to the city center," Dwalin said.

"Let's go and tell them the good news!" Kíli said, squeezing his beloved's hand.

* * *

After Kíli and Tauriel had left, Thorin rubbed his forehead and let out a sigh.

"What's wrong?" Bilbo asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing, really. Only now I'm  _really_  going to have to accept an elf into the family." He made a face, but his heart wasn't really in it.

"I thought you'd already accepted her," Dwalin said, frowning. "After your coronation..."

Thorin shrugged. "Well, Dís talked to me and...she knocked some sense into me." He scratched his head, feeling a little guilty. "I was being foolish, and it was making Kíli very unhappy. I did accept Tauriel, to repair our family, but...I still kind of hoped that she and Kíli weren't really a lasting item."

"How could you think that?" Bilbo said, sounding amused. "They don't go anywhere without the other. They're so in love, it's actually kind of disgusting."

Dwalin laughed, but Thorin only gave the hobbit a sheepish smile. "Still...she's an  _elf_."

"Oh, get over it, Thorin," Dwalin advised. "She's obviously not going anywhere, and she's quite a character. You ought to think of her as a person, not an elf. That'll get you further."

"I suppose you're right," Thorin said ruefully. "After all, it's not like we're enemies with the elves anymore...hm, this might actually be politically advantageous. It will certainly help to repair things with Thranduil."

"There you go," Bilbo said encouragingly.

"So, you're really leaving?" Thorin said to him.

"Well, not until after the wedding," Bilbo said. "I wouldn't miss it. But yes, it's high time I got back home. Who  _knows_  what's gone on in the Shire while I've been gone..."

"I meant what I said earlier, you know," Thorin said. "I want to accompany you home."

Bilbo smiled. "Thank you, Thorin, but you don't have to."

"Really, Master Burglar," he insisted. "I'm sure Dwalin and Balin would want to come as well!"

Dwalin nodded. "I would love to, Bilbo. But...if you're really leaving Fíli in charge while you're gone, Thorin, you should leave Balin or I behind to help him out."

Thorin stroked his beard, nodding. "That is true. I'll have to think about it."

"Thank you very much," Bilbo said, nodding in a bemused fashion. "You're very kind."

"So, how do you think the kingdom will feel about the engagement?" Dwalin asked.

Thorin laughed. "Well, if you really want to talk about that..."

* * *

Fíli and Gimli stood off to the side of a trinket shop while Ori examined the shop owner's goods. It was nice and cool underneath the mountain, and the bustling populous in the city center made the stone seem almost alive.

He heard a familiar voice calling his name and he turned around to see Kíli and Tauriel holding hands as they approached him. He waved at his brother in greeting.

"Fíli, Fíli!" Kíli exclaimed, beaming. For some reason, he seemed even happier than usual.

"What no greeting for me?" Gimli said in mock hurt.

"Hello, Gimli, and you too, Ori," Tauriel said warmly. The two young dwarves waved at her.

"We have the most excellent news!" Kíli exclaimed. "Tauriel and I are going to be married!"

For a moment, Fíli stood still in shock. He really  _was_  going to lose his brother to the elf. Then he grinned from ear to ear, pushing his petty resentments away. What wonderful news!

He laughed and embraced his brother, exclaiming, "Excellent! When's the day?"

"The day after your autumn holiday, Durin's Day," Tauriel told him, as radiant as her fiance.

He let go of Kíli and shook her hand. "Welcome to the royal family, Princess," he said jovially.

She laughed. "I'm glad to see you've finally accepted me, Prince."

"Well, I've had to learn to be less stubborn," he admitted, "and aside from that, you and Kíli are well suited. You are truly a wonderful elf, your Highness."

"Excuse me," Kíli said jokingly, "but Tauriel is my fiancee, not yours, Fíli."

He laughed. "You can keep her. I'm not too interested in taking a wife, let alone taking yours!"

"Congratulations!" Gimli said. Ori had finished his business with the shopkeeper and congratulated the happy couple as well.

"Would you like to walk with us?" the young dwarf invited them.

"Of course," Kíli agreed, and the group of young dwarves and an elf walked through Erebor together.


	13. The Preparations

**Part Four: Amrâlimê  
** **Chapter Thirteen: The Preparations**

* * *

The autumn sun shone bright and warm on the day of the wedding. Kíli buzzed with nervousness, afraid that something, somehow would go wrong. He, Tauriel, and Dís had been planning this day for months, and they had everything figured out, but he was still worried that something would happen to ruin their special day.

There was a knock on the door to his room. Startled out of his reverie, he turned around and called out, "Come in!"

It was Fíli. His golden-haired brother walked into the room and smiled at Kíli.

"Mother sent me to make sure you didn't go mad with worry," he said, smiling.

Kíli laughed. "I know I shouldn't be nervous, but—"

"You have every reason to be nervous, Kí," Fíli interrupted. "It's your wedding day!"

Kíli, dressed in his finest clothes, grinned briefly. Then the smile faded into a frown of worry. "I'm just afraid something will go wrong."

"What could go wrong?" Fíli asked. "Mother wouldn't let anything happen."

"How's Tauriel?" Kíli asked, changing the subject. Per dwarvish custom, the bride and and groom were to be separated on the day of the wedding until the actual ceremony.

"Nervous, just like you," Fíli said. "But she seems more excited than you, Kíli."

"I'm excited!" he protested, throwing his arms up in the air. "I'm getting married! That's exciting!"

"That's more like it." Fíli chuckled. "Do you feel ready? This is a big commitment you're making."

"Of course I'm ready," Kíli answered. "I'm marrying the lady I love. If I wasn't committed by now, I'd never be."

"Good," Fíli said, patting his brother on the back. "When do you have to be down in the valley?"

"The ceremony's at noon," Kíli said, "so Mother said to be there two hours before that."

"You'd best get moving, then," Fíli remarked. "It's almost ten o' clock."

Kíli grinned, still buzzing with nerves. "All right. I think I'm ready."

"Just one more thing," Fíli said. He pulled a large white rose out of his pocket, then pinned it to Kíli's fine jacket. "There you go. It's from Tauriel."

"I didn't get her anything like that!" Kíli protested, suddenly with one more thing to worry about.

"We can pick some flowers for her on the way to the valley," Fíli said. "Come on—let's go!"

The brothers walked through Erebor, where they were oft-greeted by dwarves wishing Kíli good fortune for his impending marriage. When at last they reached the surface, Kíli made a beeline to the nearest patch of flowers, picking them for his bride-to-be. After he'd picked enough, he sat down and began to braid them together in a flower crown like Tauriel had shown them. Fíli stood to the side, watching in amusement.

When he was finished, Kíli stood up and handed the flower crown to Fíli.

"Give this to her?" he asked with wide, hopeful eyes.

Fíli laughed and took it. "Of course. But we have to get to the pavilion first."

"Let's go!" Kíli exclaimed, starting toward the pavilion, already bustling with activity.

When they arrived, Kíli was immediately set upon by Bofur, Ori, and Gimli. Fíli bade his goodbye for the moment, off to deliver the flower crown to Tauriel. The other three dwarves led Kíli to where Dís stood, her arms crossed, calling out orders to the dwarves working to make the altar perfect.

"Oh, good, you've arrived!" she exclaimed upon seeing him. "You look lovely, dear—and you should see Tauriel! Absolutely beautiful, that elf of yours. She's a treasure. I'll be glad to have her as a daughter-in-law."

Kíli grinned. "I can't wait to see her."

"Well, it's almost time, lad," Bofur said, nodding. "The guests are arriving."

"Go greet them," Dís ordered her son. "Show them to their seats." She embraced him quickly, then went back to calling out, "A little to the left, Drevis!"

Kíli led the other three dwarves standing awkwardly at the edge of the pavilion. Hovering around the entrance was Dáin, dressed in a rather handsome hairy suit and elaborate braids in his beard. He had evidently washed recently, since he only smelled a little bit like pigs. Surrounding him were three vaguely familiar dwarves, including his wife, Thurga the Strong. The other two Kíli had probably seen before, though he didn't remember them.

"Lord Dáin!" Gimli greeted him. "It's good to see you."

"And I, you, lad," Dáin said, smiling and patting him on the back. "Kíli! Many congratulations!"

"Thank you, Dáin," he said, holding an arm out to shake his cousin's hand. Dáin ignored it and went for a full embrace. Kíli hugged him back, patting his back awkwardly.

When Dáin let go, Kíli stepped back and gestured to the dwarf closest to him. "Come this way—Bofur can show you to your seats."

"Right, come this way, my lord," Bofur said, leading him and the others off to the left.

Thurga winked at him as she passed, and the other two nodded in greeting. Kíli waved at their retreating figures. He could hear Bofur cracking a joke to the party from the Iron Hills, and Dáin's guffaw at the punchline.

The next to arrive was King Bard and his three children. After a quick greeting and a handshake from Kíli, Ori led them over to find a seat, leaving Gimli to deal with Bilbo. The hobbit was dressed in his finest clothes and winked reassuringly at Kíli, who quite clearly was still buzzing with nerves.

With his entourage gone and Fíli still nowhere to be found, Kíli helped several other dwarves of the Company to their seats. Most of them greeted him merrily with congratulations and the occasional gift. Bifur gave him a small wood charm with his and Tauriel's initials carved into it, and Bombur slipped him a pastry which Kíli gratefully stuffed into his mouth. He hadn't eaten much breakfast, too full of nerves to be hungry, but he was famished now.

Soon all his guests were relaxing and chatting, and Kíli took a deep breath. Dís had finished arranging the altar. In a half hour's time, he and Tauriel would be married, at least by dwarvish standards. The elvish part would come later, and part of that scared Kíli more than anything.

Before he could dwell on that anymore, he saw several elves approaching the pavilion. They had spent the previous night in Dale, but now they came to watch their friend Tauriel be married.

Kíli didn't recognize all of them, but he knew the Elvenking Thranduil and the two healers who had aided his recovery. Tauriel had also told him how they had helped to raise her back in Mirkwood after the king rescued her as a child when her parents died.

"Your Majesty," he said, nodding to Thranduil.

"Your Highness," the elf said in return. He didn't even seem cold. Kíli smiled up at him, a bit hesitantly. "I see you are well. I am glad you and Tauriel will be happy together despite your...differences."

Kíli wasn't quite sure what he meant. He laughed nervously. "Right this way, Thranduil. Let's get you seated."

He nodded to Hithwen and Gwelonir, the elf healers. They smiled in return and waved their hands at him in their peculiar elven way of greeting.

When they had settled down, Kíli returned to where more guests—friends of his mother, some cousins on his father's side, and various lords and diplomats Thorin had invited as not to offend them. By then, Ori, Gimli, and Bofur had returned to assist him.

Kíli soon found himself face to face with Gandalf. The wizard was dressed not in his customary dirty grey robe, but in a cleaner, darker grey robe. He nodded to Kíli.

"Good day, Kíli," he greeted him. "Where is your mother? She asked me to help out with the decorations."

"She's over there," Kíli said, pointing to where Dís was talking with elf Hithwen.

Gandalf nodded and strode over to her, his staff tapping the floor periodically as he walked.

At last, Uncle Thorin arrived. He smiled and embraced his nephew, then stepped back to address him.

"Are you ready, Kíli?" he asked gently. He must have been able to tell how jittery he was.

Kíli nodded. "Yes, Thorin."

"Where do I need to go?" Thorin asked, looking around. Kíli and Tauriel had asked him to officiate.

"I'm not sure," Kíli admitted. "Ask Mother, she'll know."

Uncle Thorin nodded. "Well, I'll go find her. Congratulations, Kíli. You're really growing up, and you've found a wonderful wife—even if she is an elf."

He walked off, leaving Kíli alone. Soon, Fíli came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Huh?" he asked, startled.

"Mother wants you," his brother said. "It's almost time."

Kíli nodded and grinned. He quickly hugged Fíli. "Thanks for helping, Fí," he whispered.

"You're my brother," Fíli said simply. "I'll help you any way I can."

"Well," Kíli said, letting go of o him, "you can help me now by showing me where Mother is."

Dís, as soon as she saw him, frowned. "Your lapel is crooked." She leaned forward to straighten it. Once she was done, Kíli pushed her away gently, but Dís wasn't finished. She embraced him tightly and murmured, "I'm so happy for you, Kíli."

"Thank you, Mother," he whispered back.

She let go of him and smiled. "It's almost time for the ceremony. Let's go."

Kíli nodded, gulping, and followed her toward the altar.


	14. A Ring and A Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of all the chapters in this fic, this was by far the most difficult for me to write. I wanted to make it perfect, and accurate, and well-worded. I don't think I quite achieved it, but here it is anyway.
> 
> I did a lot of research on both elvish and dwarvish marriage traditions. Tolkien wrote exactly nothing about dwarvish weddings, and only very vague, unhelpful things about elvish weddings, so most of this I entirely made up or altered to fit my needs.
> 
> Also, I referenced my other fic, A Light in Dark Places, in here a couple times, so if you like Thranduil maybe you could go check it out?
> 
> Arasseth and Merilon are the names I chose for Tauriel's mother and father. Arasseth means "doe" and Merilon means "rose".
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Part Four: Amrâlimê  
** **Chapter Fourteen: A Ring and A Promise**

* * *

As Kíli walked up to the altar, he felt his mother and his brother walking behind him. The guests, now seated, grew quiet as they realized the ceremony was about to begin.

When Kíli reached the altar, the nervousness inside him reached a new height. What if Tauriel didn't show up? What if Uncle Thorin forgot what he was supposed to say? What if Thranduil—

Then he saw Tauriel, and he could think of nothing but her.

Her hair was radiant in the autumn sunlight. The flower crown he had so clumsily made for her rested on upon her fiery red locks. Her eyes were bright and full of cheer, sparkling like emeralds. Her smile shone brighter than the sun, and her gaze was all for him. Kíli's anxieties vanished, and his heart swelled. He loved her, more than anything. He was glad to bond himself with her this day.

Her dress was a pale, pastel green in the elvish fashion, though her veil was heavy and dwarven, made by Dís and her together. Kíli's dark indigo suit was dwarvish, but the jewelry he wore was all elven—gifts from Tauriel, mostly.

Tauriel approached the altar. Thorin, already standing there, nodded to Kíli. He took a deep breath and walked forward to meet his bride. Dís winked at him as he passed her, and he caught a glimpse of Fíli's wide smile in the crowd. He heard someone—a dwarf, mostly likely—blowing their nose loudly, already emotional, though the ceremony had barely begun.

Kíli arrived at the altar and smiled at Tauriel. She smiled back, her eyes full of love. He only hoped he looked the same to her.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two beloved friends," Thorin began, his voice rumbling. "Tauriel of the Woodland Realm and Kíli, Prince of Erebor."

Kíli reached over the altar and took Tauriel's hands as Thorin continued.

"This union of the two realms, once enemies, is a sign of renewed peace," he said. "As Kíli and Tauriel love together, may we all learn to love each other."

Kíli repressed a giggle. To think that Uncle Thorin, renowned for his hatred of elves, would be saying such a thing! Well, it just went to show that people do change. Even Thorin was no exception.

Thorin stepped back from the altar. "To show approval and to bring peace and prosperity to this union, let the guardians of the couple step forward and bless them."

Kíli looked up as Thranduil rose. He remembered negotiating this part: it was customary in the elvish traditions for the mother of the bride to present the groom with a gift, and the father of the groom to do the same with the bride. However, since Kíli's father had died before he was born, and Tauriel's parents had perished long ago, arrangements had been made so that Dís and Thranduil would perform the tradition.

The tall blond elf approached him, and Kíli looked up. He was smiling gently, for once not seeming angry. In his hands he held a small box.

"Kíli, son of Dís and Víli," the elvenking began. "I present to you a gift." He handed Kíli the box.

Kíli let go of Tauriel's hand. He took the box and opened it. Inside was a bracelet, wrought in silver, with a single white gen set in it.

"This bracelet, set with a gem of Lasgalen, was wrought by my finest silversmiths for you, Kíli," Thranduil said. "The gem is one of my own. It belonged to Calien, my wife, many years ago. In it I caught the light of the stars. It carried the memory of my love. May it carry the memory of yours as well."

Kíli bowed his head and murmured his thanks, touched by such a meaningful gift. Thranduil's eyes shone with unshed tears, though he still smiled. Kíli placed the lid back on the box and set it upon the altar.

Thranduil turned to Tauriel. "Tauriel, my daughter in all but blood. I am glad to see you wed to one so good. May your days together be long and joyful." He turned to the middle of the altar and closed his eyes. "I bless you now, Kíli, son of Dís, and Tauriel, daughter of Arasseth, that your love will be strong and joyous. I bless you in the name of Manwë, and of Aulë, the Valar great on high, to watch over you in your marriage, and rain good fortune upon you. I give this union my blessing as Thranduil, son of Oropher, guardian of Tauriel."

He bowed to the couple standing at the altar. Kíli shivered. That was a very impressive speech, and from what he could tell, it had touched the elves present very deeply. It was good of him to name Mahal as a guardian, respecting the dwarves as well as the elves' Manwë, though they did use his elvish name of Aulë. He wondered if Dís would be so eloquent.

Thranduil retreated, and Dís stepped forward. She carried a cloth-wrapped parcel. She walked up to Tauriel and offered her the cloth.

"Tauriel, daughter of Arasseth and Merilon," she said, her words mirroring Thranduil's, "I present to you a gift."

Tauriel took the parcel and unfolded the cloth around it, revealing a magnificent, shining dagger with a gem in its hilt. Kíli grinned. He had thought of the idea to give her a weapon, and Dís and Thorin had spent many hours in the forge making it for his bride.

Tauriel lifted the blade up in the air, admiring it. Kíli was very impressed. It was a very beautiful weapon.

"This dagger was hand-crafted by myself and my brother Thorin," Dís said. "It carries an emerald in the hilt, symbolizing love and rebirth. May it be only an ornament and a reminder of this day, and never see violence because of long-lasting peace; but carry it into battle valiantly as the great warrior you are if hard days do befall us."

Tauriel ran her hand along the blade, then folded the cloth back over it and placed it next to Kíli's box on the altar.

Dís turned to Kíli and smiled at him fondly. "Kíli, my son. You have found a wonderful wife, and you are well deserving of the happiness you will find together. May your days be long and joyful." She, as Thranduil had, turned to face both of them. "I bless you now, Tauriel, daughter of Merilon, and Kíli, son of Víli, that your love may ring throughout the land and be pure and good until your final day of parting. I bless you in the name of Mahal, father of the  _khazad_ , and of Varda, guardian of the Eldar, that they may guide you in hardships and bless you in peace. I give this union my blessing as Dís, daughter of Thráin, mother of Kíli."

Dís bowed to her son and daughter-in-law. Kíli smiled at Tauriel, taking her hands again as his mother retreated into the audience.

Thorin stepped forward again, holding two small boxes. He handed one each to Tauriel and Kíli, and he spoke.

"The blessings have been given. It is now time for the exchange of vows and of rings."

Kíli opened his box first and took out the ring he had crafted for his bride. It was a band of gold, with small diamonds embedded in it, the metal twisting around the gems like the roots of a tree.

"Tauriel,  _amrâlimê_ ," he intoned gravely, "I present to you this ring. With it, I give you my life to be yours, and I promise to abide with you through all trials and times of peace in love, as your loyal husband until the end of our days upon this Middle-earth, and beyond."

In the audience, there was a loud sniff as someone began to cry. Kíli offered the ring to Tauriel, who took it and slid it upon her finger. He was proud of that ring, and of the vows he had just made. He truly meant them, from the bottom of his heart.

"I accept your ring and your promise," Tauriel said, "and offer you my own." She opened her box to show the ring she had made for him. It was much bigger than the one he had given her, and not the prettiest thing Kíli had ever seen, as she was no smith, but she had poured her love into it, and it showed.

"Kíli,  _meleth nîn_ ," she murmured. "I present to you this ring. With it I give you my life to be yours, and I promise to abide with you through all trials and times of peace in love, as your loyal wife until the end of our days upon this Middle-earth, and beyond."

Kíli took the ring from her and slipped it onto his own finger. "I accept your ring and your promise," he said.

He could hear several people crying now, and though he didn't turn his head to see exactly who it was, he was fairly certain Dáin was among them. He would know that loud sob anywhere.

"Kíli and Tauriel," Thorin said, placing his hands upon their own clasped ones, "I, King Thorin of Erebor, do hereby pronounce you husband and wife!"

Kíli grinned at Tauriel—his wife!—and saw her beaming back at him. They had come so far together from the day they had first met on the battlefields of Mirkwood, and they only had further to go.

"The couple is bonded for life by the laws of all kingdoms," Thorin continued. "You may now kiss to seal the contract."

It sounded so formal, worded like that, but Kíli was determined to make this wedding a celebration. It had been a little tricky, deciding how to make it so he and Tauriel could reach each other over the altar, especially since he was so much shorter than him, but eventually a solution had been worked out. And by that, he meant that he came up with one right then, on the spot, surprising everyone.

Kíli leapt onto the altar, careful to avoid knocking off the gifts, and embraced his wife, kissing her loudly. He could feel her smiling as she reciprocated, and he heard the watching crowd burst into joyous applause, rising to their feet. Some people were outright sobbing, and there was one loud, ear-splitting wolf whistle he was fairly sure came from Bofur.

Kíli broke away from Tauriel, grinning from ear to ear. He jumped into her arms and kissed her cheek. Tauriel laughed, lifting him up in her arms to show the watching crowd.

Kíli waved to his friends and family, blowing them kisses as the clapping continued. Tauriel put him down, and he grasped her hand, smiling so hard his face hurt. What had he had to worry about? Everything was good— _better_  than good! He had never been happier.

Tauriel leaned down to kiss him again, and Kíli met her gladly, standing on his tiptoes. After the kiss, Thorin walked forward and put one hand on Kíli's shoulder and another on Tauriel's back. He cleared his throat loudly and the audience settled down.

"There will now be a feast in the halls of Erebor," he announced, "courtesy of the royal cooks."

The dwarves present clapped loudly. Kíli noted that Bombur, who had been wiping his eyes, burst into fresh tears.

"Come down to the great feast hall!" Thorin invited. "Be merry! Celebrate! And congratulations to Kíli and Tauriel!"

The crowd gave a great cheer and all rose. Thorin walked around Kíli, gave him a quick hug, and then turned to lead the wedding guests back to Erebor. Kíli took his wife's hand and followed.


	15. Many Congratulations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Name meanings:  
> Ieseth - 'wish', Orelon - 'morning star', Midhel - 'dew girl'

**Part Four: Amrâlimê  
** **Chapter Fifteen: Many Congratulations**

* * *

After a few bites of food, Dís rounded up Kíli and Tauriel and dragged them over to where she and some of her friends had erected a flower-draped archway that led to nowhere.

"Your guests will want to congratulate you," she informed them. "You must greet them."

"No, they want to eat," Kíli protested. "And so do I!"

"The dwarves, maybe," Tauriel said. "The elves will come first, then when the dwarves have finished eating, they'll follow the elves' example."

"I'll slip you two some food every now and then," Fíli said, standing by his mother.

Kíli shrugged. "Fine."

True to Tauriel's prediction, the first person to come and congratulate was an elf: Thranduil.

"My congratulations," he said, smiling at Tauriel. "I am glad to see you so happy, Tauriel, though I would never have imagined this outcome from the events of last year!"

Tauriel laughed and embraced him. "Neither would have I!"

"Thank you for your gift, by the way," Kíli said. "It was very thoughtful."

Thranduil nodded. "I am glad you like it." He nodded, then turned to walk away. "I wish you good fortune!"

The next to come were the elf-healers, Tauriel's former guardians Hithwen and Gwelonir. They each embraced Tauriel, weeping, then they moved onto Kíli, who awkwardly shook each of their hands. Next was Bilbo, who slipped them both some cookies, for which Kíli was very grateful. He hugged them both, then went back to eating with a quick congratulations.

After a little while, the three other elves who had attended the wedding came to give their regards to the bride and groom. Tauriel's face lit up upon seeing them. Apparently they had been some of her dear friends in Mirkwood, two of which had been in the Guard with her, and the last of which was Hithwen and Gwelonir's daughter.

"Kíli, you have not met my friends yet," Tauriel said, with one arm around one of the elves. Kíli nodded and held out his hand to shake.

"I am Iesteth," one of them said. She shook his hand firmly. "My mother and father came to see you earlier."

"It is nice to meet you," Kíli said. He glanced at the other two.

"I am Orelon, and this is my sister Midhel," one said. He shook Kíli's hand while Midhel waved at him.

"We are staying in Erebor for a little while," Midhel said. "Iesteth and I are planning for our own wedding, and we wish for Tauriel to help us plan."

"Oh, when shall it be?" Kíli asked, looking at the two engaged ladies.

"Three years from now, perhaps," Iesteth said, looking at her fiancee fondly. "We have just become engaged."

"We did our wedding a little sooner," Tauriel said, nodding.

"Why is that?" Orelon asked curiously. "You did not even have the year-long engagement, which is usually the minimum."

"Well," Kíli said, a bit awkwardly, "seeing as I'm a dwarf..."

"The dwarves do things a bit differently," Tauriel finished. That wasn't quite the same thing Kíli had been thinking of but it was a better explanation. "Besides, we were ready."

Iesteth heard her mother calling her, so the three of them bid their farewells and went back to the table. Gandalf came next, winking at Kíli and giving Tauriel a smooth, round stone.

"What is this?" she asked curiously.

"Nothing," he said, though his smile was mischievous.

"Really?" she asked, turning it over in her hand. "Just a nice rock you thought I would like?"

"No, it's a fertility charm," he said casually. "I don't know if it works, but Radagast always gives them out at weddings, so I thought I'd take a leaf out of his book."

Tauriel turned pink, but she didn't give it back.

Bard and his three children came next. The son, Bain, didn't say much; he looked rather bored. Kíli didn't blame him—he remembered attending weddings as child. They weren't very interesting, especially when you barely knew the people getting married. Tilda, the youngest girl, chatted on and on. She was fascinated by Tauriel's dress, and asked to see the dagger and the bracelet the couple had been given during the wedding. She was very impressed by all the jewels, and Kíli pulled off one of his rings to show her.

"This a sapphire," he told her, tapping the pale blue stone. "I put it into this ring myself, many years ago in Ered Luin."

"Did you know Tauriel then?" Tilda asked.

"No, I met her only a little before you met her," he said.

"It's a very nice ring," the girl said, looking at it enviously.

Kíli offered it to her. "Would you like to have it?"

Her eyes shone. "Really?"

"Yes," he said. "I have many more, and you really seem to like it."

She took it from him and slipped it onto her finger. It was much too big for her. She giggled.

"It's too big," she said.

"Here," Kíli said, "how about after the party, your father takes you down into the city? I'm sure there will be a jeweler there who can fix it for you."

Tilda beamed and looked up at her father. "Can we, Daddy?"

Bard smiled and patted her shoulder. "Of course, Tilda. Thank you, Kíli."

"You're welcome," he said.

Sigrid, the oldest, smiled at them. She seemed a little bored, too. "Congratulations," she said, looking at Tauriel. "I hope you will be very happy together."

Tauriel kissed to top of Kíli's head. "Thank you, Sigrid. We will be."

Her smile frozen in place, she nodded and turned away. Bard looked after her quizzically, then shrugged.

"Congratulations," he said. "Thank you for inviting us, it was a wonderful ceremony."

The family left. Next come were Bifur, Bombur, and Bofur, each of them loaded with food. Bifur held a wine glass in his hand. He winked at them and tipped his glass. They all seemed a little bit drunk already.

"Congratulations, my friends," Bofur said, his speech a little slurred. "What a wonderful wedding. Right, Bifur?"

"Yes, verrrryy," Bifur agreed, nodding several times in quick succession. "Very very nice wedding."

"Here, have a ham," Bombur said through a mouthful of food. "Happy stomachs, happy couple, I always say."

Kíli took the slice of ham and ate it gratefully. Tauriel only nibbled on hers, amused.

Some of Kíli's cousins came up after them, two boys and two girls. He didn't remember any of their names, making it an awkward conversation to fumble through. He was grateful when they walked away. Dori and Ori came next. Dori said that he had given them a wedding gift, an expensive tea set, but he had it delivered to their rooms so it would not be broken while sitting out in the open. Ori had baked them some fresh goods, which he confessed he had donated to the reception food and had all been eaten.

"No worries, Ori," Tauriel said. "You were helping us out with food. And there's a reason it's all gone, your cooking is wonderful!"

The little dwarf blushed and brushed off the compliment, but Kíli knew he appreciated it. Ori had been one of the first to accept Tauriel back when things were still rough.

Some dwarvish nobles wandered over next. One mentioned that he appreciated the decorations; the other said it reminded him of his own wedding. Kíli nodded awkwardly, as he had never met them before, though he vaguely remembered seeing them at official functions before. Thorin must have invited them as to not seem rude. When they caught sight of Nori sauntering over, they both scurried away.

Nori was thoroughly drunk and having a wonderful time. He proudly showed off all the things he had nicked during the reception so far, and Tauriel gingerly confiscated them from him. Kíli caught Fíli's eye. While Tauriel distracted Nori, Kíli gave all the stolen items to Fíli and sent him on an errand to return them before anyone got too mad at Nori. The thief didn't even notice, he was so drunk. He soon wandered off, singing a dwarvish wedding song in a horribly out of tune voice.

His mother and some of her friends stopped by. The lady dwarves fussed over the couple, complimenting them profusely, and mentioning how  _I always knew the lad would turn out all right, didn't I?_  and  _What a lovely bride you make, Tauriel, that really is a wonderful shade of green_  and  _I'm not very fond of elves—no offense, dear, you're an exception—but Thranduil's speech was lovely, don't you think?_  Dís only winked and slipped Kíli some food.

Balin and Dwalin stopped by and chatted for a while next. While they were talking to Kíli and Tauriel, another dwarvish nobleman wandered up. He quickly nodded to them and murmured "Many congratulations," then he pulled Balin and Dwalin aside and began to speak to them about gold mining in the south.

Dáin and his wife, Thurga, came up to them after Balin and Dwalin left.

"Congratulations, Kíli," Dáin said, embracing him. Kíli laughed and hugged his cousin back.

"A wonderful ceremony," Thurga commented. "Nothing like ours. Remember, Dáin?" She laughed and elbowed her husband playfully.

Dáin blushed. "No, nothing like ours."

"What was yours like?" Tauriel asked.

"It was a hasty, rowdy affair," Thurga said breezily. "Hardly anyone was there. There was a lot of ale."

"A  _lot_  of ale," Dáin said, blushing an even deeper red.

"Dáin doesn't like to talk about it in civilized company," Thurga said, chuckling, "though  _I_ found his antics very amusing."

"I'm very hungry," Dáin said even louder. "Congratulations, Kíli and Tauriel. Come, Thurga, let's go get some food."

Thurga guffawed loudly, winking to Tauriel and Kíli as she left.

After Kíli and Tauriel had received congratulations from what seemed like the entire world, Dís told them they could go sit down and eat. By now, many of the guests were a little bit drunk.

Kíli only had time to take one bite before Fíli tapped him on the shoulder.

"Uncle Thorin wants you two," he said, pointing to where Thorin stood, Thranduil beside him. They were both drinking, and—to Kíli's surprise—talking animatedly.

Kíli sighed, but Tauriel kissed him and helped him back to his feet. They walked over to Thorin and Thranduil.

Now that he was up close, Kíli could see that both kings were more than a little drunk. Thorin grinned, his eyes bleary and embraced him roughly.

"Kíli!" he shouted. Kíli winced.

"Uncle, I'm right here, there's no need to shout," he said.

"I have decided to name— _you_ —" here he pointed to Tauriel— "a princess of Erebor!"

"Really?" Tauriel said politely, her lips quivering in an effort not to smile. "I'm honored, your Majesty."

"'S Thorin," he said, patting her heartily on the back. "No need t' be formal, now I'm your uncle-in-law."

"Thank you, Thorin," Tauriel said, now visibly smiling.

"You're...part of the family," he said, nodding several times in a row. "You should get a title, too."

"She  _had_  a title in  _my_  kingdom," Thranduil whined. Kíli giggled. He was just as drunk as Thorin.

"Not as good as princess!" Thorin shot back.

"She was Captain of the Guard, that's good," Thranduil said, leaning down so their faces were level. Kíli put a hand over his mouth to stop himself from guffawing and exchanged a glance with Tauriel.

" _You_  coulda named her a princess, but you didn't," Thorin pointed out, jabbing the elvenking on the nose.

Thranduil only leaned in closer, going cross-eyed. "Well  _fine_ —I'll...I'll..." He glanced around, his eyes settling on Kíli. "Hah! I'll name  _him_  something!" He pointed to Kíli, who could keep it in no longer. He burst into laughter. It was worth missing food to witness this.

Thorin harrumphed and leaned back, his arms crossed. "'Something' isn't a very impressive title."

Thranduil sniffed and jabbed his own finger on top of Thorin's head. "I name him...I name him..."

"I'm waaiiiitiiing," Thorin said, swaying a little. Kíli laughed harder, and Tauriel along with him. He was glad the two kings were (sort of?) getting along, but he had to admit Thorin was winning. He couldn't think of anything much more impressive than princess, and he doubted the intoxicated Thranduil would either.

Thranduil whirled around and grabbed Kíli in a half-embrace, proudly showing him to Thorin. "I name him an elf-friend!"

"That's not equal to a princess," Thorin gloated. Kíli nodded, still squeezed tight to Thranduil. He had to agree, and he wondered whether either of them would remember this the next morning. Tauriel, however, seemed duly impressed.

"No," Thranduil conceded, " _but_ —it's pretty good."

"Um...how?" Kíli asked, struggling to escape from his grip.

"An elf-friend is a non-elf who has shown kinship to the Eldar," Tauriel explained, helping him by tugging on Thranduil's arm. "They are granted friendship by all elves and safe passage through elven territories. I do believe your hobbit friend, Bilbo, has been named such by both Thranduil and Lord Elrond of Rivendell."

"And  _you're_  the first dwarf to get it," Thranduil said smugly, folding his arms. "Well. The first dwarf since Moria's fall."

Kíli nodded, now much more impressed. "I'm honored, your Majesty," he replied.

Thranduil glanced at Thorin, then winked at Kíli. "Just call me Thranduil. We're family now, after all." He patted Tauriel's head a few times, then sauntered away, looking for more wine.

Thorin sniffed. "I still think princess is better." Then he, too, walked away, leaving Kíli and Tauriel alone among the crowd.

Tauriel chuckled, smiling. "Well, now you know what happens when Thranduil drinks too much wine."

"And when Thorin does," Kíli added. "I wonder if they'll remember this tomorrow."

Tauriel laughed and took his hand. "We'll have to see."

He leaned on her, looking out upon all the merrymakers. Everyone was drinking and laughing and generally having a wonderful time. His heart warmed.

"So, we're married now," he murmured. "Isn't it wonderful already?"

"Not quite married," Tauriel reminded him.

"Oh, yes," he said, remembering.

"They all seem preoccupied," she observed.

"Yes," he agreed. "Do you think they'd miss us if we slipped off somewhere quiet?"

"Not at all," she replied, squeezing his hand. "Why don't we?"

"Let's," he agreed, and he led her out into the hall and back to their rooms. The wedding wasn't quite over yet.


	16. Mellon Nîn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Cassidy_And_The_Company, who requested some Kiliel intimacy/fluff quite some time ago. I'm sorry it took so long!!

**Part Four: Amrâlimê  
** **Chapter Sixteen: Mellon Nîn**

* * *

When Tauriel woke, Kíli had already left the bedchamber. She could hear him in the next room of their small home, bustling about the kitchen. No doubt he was making breakfast. She smiled.

A week had passed since their wedding. They had spent a brief honeymoon in Dale, then moved into their very own set of rooms in Erebor. Per their request, Thorin was currently negotiating their appointment as ambassadors for Erebor. When the charming and kind halfling Bilbo left for the Shire in the coming month, she and Kíli would accompany him home, then continue on to the Blue Mountains, where they would work as diplomats for a year or so. Then Thorin would send them off to someplace else—an elvish kingdom, Tauriel hoped; perhaps Rivendell or Lothlórien. Eventually, she and her husband would settle down, but for now, they wished to travel and see the world.

She sat up in bed, stretching with a yawn. She wore a loose, pale pink robe of the Silvan fashion as her nightgown. She quickly changed into her day clothes, though she did not feel quite hungry enough for breakfast.

"Tauriel?" Kíli called out. " _Meleth nîn?_  Breakfast is ready!"

Tauriel smiled. He was picking up Sindarin very fast, and now used elvish nicknames for her as often as Westron or Khuzdul ones. She was having a little more trouble learning the dwarvish language, but she had picked up a couple phrases.

"I'm coming, dear!" she called out. She pulled her hair back and hummed as she put it up in a quick ponytail.

She walked into the dining area to see two steaming bowls of oatmeal. The smell of cinnamon and sugar drifted through the air, and she saw some apples in the hot mush as well. Kíli beamed at her as she walked in, stepping forward on his tiptoes with a hopeful look in his eyes.

Tauriel greeted him with a smile. She bent down to kiss him. When they broke apart and she stood upright again, she took his hand and said, "You did a good job on the oatmeal,  _amrâlimê_."

He laughed and glanced away for a moment. "I just hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"If it tastes like it smells, it will," she told him. "Why don't we find out?"

They ate slowly, enjoying the meal. The oatmeal wasn't the best food she'd ever eaten, but it was enjoyable.

When Tauriel finished, she pushed her bowl forward and sighed happily. "Very good, Kíli."

He smiled, his eyes lighting up. "I'm glad it wasn't awful."

"Does your uncle have any more plans for us?" she asked. "What are we doing today?"

"Thorin hasn't told me anything new," Kíli said. "And I was planning on going to the market today. Do you want to come, Tauriel?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I was thinking last night...I really ought to write to Legolas. I haven't seen him since the battle...when I still thought you were—" She broke off before voicing that awful word, "dead".

"Wasn't he the elvenking's son?" Kíli said, trying to sound polite. There was a jealous edge to his voice. "Didn't he... _like_  you?"

Tauriel laughed. "Oh, no. His father, the king, he thought so, but—no. We're good friends, but not...he didn't like me like that. Well, at least we  _were_  good friends."

Kíli nodded, a little more relaxed. "Well, you ought to write to him, then. I'll be in the market, and I might meet up with Fíli and Gimli later. Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No,  _meleth nîn_ , I'm fine," she replied, getting up. She took her bowl with her and began to wash it out as he continued to talk.

"All right, then, starlight," he said. "I'll see you later."

He came up and gave her a hug from behind. Tauriel smiled, turning around. She leaned down to kiss him, but he jumped up onto the counter, sitting on it so their faces were level. She leaned back up and their lips met.

They broke apart. Tauriel quickly kissed him on the forehead, then grabbed him around the waist and held him down.

"Goodbye,  _amrâlimê_ ," he called to her as he headed away. "I love you! I'll miss you!"

"Kíli, you'll only be gone a few hours," she said with a laugh. "No need to be dramatic!"

"Don't you love me, too? Won't you miss me?" he asked with mock melancholy as he put his shoes on his hairy feet.

Tauriel crossed her arms, raising one red-haired eyebrow. "Well, yes, but I'll be busy, sweet."

"Sweet is right." Kíli laughed. "No other husband would be so thoughtful!"

"I wouldn't want any other husband," Tauriel said, smiling. She was happy, her heart content with her life. "Alright—I love you,  _meleth nîn_ , and I'll miss you, too."

He blew her a kiss, opening the door. "Goodbye, Tauriel!"

"Goodbye, Kíli!" she called as he finally left, closing the door behind him. She stared at the closed doorway for a moment, a smile on her face, before leaving the kitchen and heading into their bedroom. On the way, she noticed Kíli had left his dishes on the table.

She rolled her eyes, but she turned back and cleaned up after her husband. When she was alone, she settled down to write her letter to Legolas.

_Mellon nîn,_  she began,

_I am very sorry to not have wished you goodbye before your departure, but I hope you are doing well among the Dúnedain. I saw your father recently. I am glad to say he has forgiven me (and I, him) though I do not currently reside in the Greenwood, and I have formally resigned the position of Captain of the Guard._

_I'm getting ahead of myself. First, how are you? Are the Dúnedain faring well? What was your journey like? And where do you currently reside? I am going to begin traveling very soon. Perhaps we could visit._

_Now, onto my news. After the Battle of the Five Armies, as they are beginning to call it, I found Kíli. At first, I thought he was dead, but I soon discovered that somehow, he had survived! After weeks of care from Thranduil's best healers, he recovered, along with his brother and his uncle, King Thorin._

_Recently, Kíli and I were married. That was when I last saw your father. I do wish you could have been there! I missed you,_ mellon nîn _. I still do, though I am happy with my wonderful husband._

_Kíli's uncle, the king, has appointed us as diplomats. Our first mission will be to Ered Luin, but perhaps we could stop and visit you on the way west._

_I am, in summary, happy and doing quite well, though I miss you very much, my oldest friend. Please respond quickly—I yearn for news of you!_

_With love,_  
_Tauriel  
_ _Ambassador of Erebor_

She set her quill down, satisfied. She read the letter over, correcting the occasional grammatical error, then folded it up and put it into an envelope. She addressed it, then set it aside. She would see it delivered the next day.

She picked up a book to read until Kíli returned, then got comfortable in her bed. She read for several hours, until the door opened again.

Tauriel closed her book and got up to greet him. Kíli dropped his bags on the floor as he saw her, tiptoeing into a quick greeting kiss.

"Did you finish your letter?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Did you get everything you needed?"

"Yes," he said, leaning down and pulling something out of the bag. "And I got you this!"

"Oh, Kíli, you didn't have to—" she exclaimed, but she took it as he pressed it toward her.

It was a small, funny-looking comb, very decorative, with a large green gem embedded in the handle.

"Oh, it's lovely!" she exclaimed, a bit hesitantly. She didn't know exactly what the purpose of such an elaborate looking comb would be. "Is it...decorative?"

"It's like jewelry," he explained. "Like your earrings. You put your hair up in a bun, then stick this in your hair to hold it in place. The maker showed me how—here—"

Obediently, she sat down on the ground. He walked behind her and began to mess with her hair. A minute or so later, he stepped back.

"It would be better if you did it," he said critically, "but you get the picture."

Tauriel stood up and walked over to the nearest mirror, admiring her new comb. It looked very nice, and the gem would go very well with a green dress she had received from Dís as a wedding present. "I love it, Kíli," she said, grinning. "Thank you!"

Kíli walked over and embraced her. He buried her face in her chest, and she smiled, kissing the top of his head. Then she laughed, feeling him kiss the tops of her breasts in return, then pushed him away gently.

"How about we go to the bedroom, if you're in that kind of a mood?" she invited.

"Yes, let's," he said mischievously, taking her hand and leading her away. "Take the comb out before we get started, though. We wouldn't want to break it."


	17. Paths That Lead Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is nigh. There are only a few chapters left, and they focus mostly on Bilbo's journey home. Thank you for reading!

**Part Four: Amrâlimê  
** **Chapter Seventeen: Paths That Lead Home**

* * *

Bilbo was ready to leave. All of his things were packed and put on the pony he was to be riding home.

Well, at least he looked ready to leave. In truth, though he missed the Shire, he would miss Erebor. He had grown used to the company of dwarves and the great stone halls of the mountain kingdom. He was glad, at least, that he would soon return to his true home, and that some of his closest friends among the Company of Thorin Oakenshield would be accompanying him home: Thorin himself, Kíli, Gandalf, and Balin, as well as Kíli's lovely elven wife, Tauriel. Fíli had wanted to come, too, as had Bofur and Dwalin, but Thorin's eldest nephew had to rule in his stead during the king's absence, with Dwalin to guide him. And Bofur was too busy at work in Erebor to leave for that long.

Bilbo stared up at his now-empty dwarven bookshelf. Soon he would be home, staring at his own hobbit-made one. He closed his eyes and imagined his home as he had left it. Of course, he doubted it would have been left undisturbed. Hobbits were a nosy folk, always claiming ownership to things that weren't theirs. He fully expected half of his belongings to be missing by the time he got back to Bag End, though none of the thieves would ever admit to stealing.

In a way, Bilbo himself had been a thief as well. His official title was, after all, "Master Burglar", and he had stolen the Arkenstone. But it was more than that—he'd stolen away on an adventure that wasn't his, and he'd stolen this room and this bookshelf away during his stay in Erebor. Now it was time to give them back.

He stood up slowly, giving his room a final goodbye glance, before leaving it for the last time.

Bilbo walked through the halls of Erebor, leisurely and slow. He would take his time to wish farewell to this place that had been his home for nearly a year.

At last, he reached the mountain's great gate. There stood a grand farewell party, not only to him, but for Thorin, who was accompanying him home, and for Kíli and Tauriel, who were going onward to the Blue Mountains after dropping him off at the Shire.

He saw the whole Company, as well as Glóin's entire family, and Thorin's sister, the Lady Dís, among the crowd. He waved to Dís, whom he was rather fond of. She smiled and nodded in reply.

At the head of the party was Gandalf the Grey standing beside King Thorin Oakenshield. Kíli and Tauriel were behind them, talking to Fíli, who would remain behind.

As Bilbo approached, Balin slipped out of the crowd to greet him. After a quick brotherly embrace, rough in the dwarvish fashion, the elderly dwarf led him towards the main party.

"I'm glad you finally came," Balin said as they walked.

"I was saying goodbye to Erebor," Bilbo explained.

Balin chuckled. "The mountain can't say goodbye back, you know."

Bilbo shrugged. "It is, in it's own way."

They stopped. Bilbo looked up to Gandalf, who smiled at him.

"My dear Bilbo," he said affectionately. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "I miss the Shire. I can't wait to see green fields again."

"You won't have to travel far," Thorin rumbled, a gentle smile gracing his face. He had been growing out his beard, Bilbo had noticed, though he didn't know quite why. He didn't know why Thorin had kept his beard short to begin with. Perhaps he ought to ask.

"There are many fields on our way," the king continued.

"Which route are we taking, Gandalf?" Balin asked.

"Around Mirkwood, then over the High Pass," the Wizard replied. "With the orcs dead, it's much safer than it will be when we came."

"That's not how we got to Ered Luin," Balin remarked.

"We're a smaller company than all the Longbeards," Thorin reasoned. "All of our people could not have gone this way."

"When do we leave Erebor?" Bilbo asked. "How long are we going to stand around here?"

"As soon as we're ready," Gandalf said.

"I am," Bilbo said. He was. The mountain loomed over them, reminding him of all he was leaving, but the promise of home was too tempting. He was itching to go.

"Then let us be gone!" Thorin said. He turned to his nephews and Tauriel. "Have you said your goodbyes?"

"Yes, Uncle," Kíli said. He smiled at his brother. "Don't worry, Fíli, we'll be back within a few years. And I'll write."

"Of course," the prince agreed. "Though Erebor will not be the same without you."

They hugged one last time. Then Tauriel smiled at her brother-in-law as he kissed her hand. Next Fíli bade his uncle goodbye. Then he turned to Bilbo, embracing the hobbit warmly.

"Farewell, Master Boggins," the golden-haired prince said, a joke in his voice.

"It's  _Baggins_ , actually—" Bilbo protested, irked that Fíli hadn't even learned his name right after all this time.

Fíli and Kíli both burst into laughter, and Bilbo sheepishly laughed along with them, belatedly remembering their first meeting back in Bag End, where Kíli had mispronounced his name.

"You too, Fíli," Bilbo replied when they settled down. "It was a pleasure knowing you."

"You as well," Fíli said with a nod and a smile.

Bilbo turned to the rest of the Company. Suddenly his heart ached. He would miss each of them greatly, and Erebor was so far away from the Shire that he doubted he would ever see all of them again.

His eyes filled with unshed tears of parting, but he smiled all the same. "Well," he said to his dwarven friends, "I guess this is farewell."

Each member of the Company beamed at their burglar, some eyes drier than others. Óin, always more sentimental, sobbed outright. Bofur wiped his eyes on a handkerchief, and little Ori hugged his older brother Dori tightly around the arm, his smile wobbling.

"I'll miss all of you," Bilbo continued, "but I do hope to see some of you again." He swallowed. "If you're ever near the Shire, feel free to stop by. Tea is at four, and...don't bother knocking."

There was a teary chuckle from the dwarves, and Bilbo waved at them and turned away for the last time.

"Come, Bilbo," Gandalf said, putting his arm around his shoulders, "Let's travel home."


	18. Back iIn Bag End

**Part Five: The Shire  
** **Chapter Eighteen: Back in Bag End**

* * *

Bilbo breathed in the crisp autumn air of the Shire, a broad smile spread across his face. He sat atop a pony, overlooking the valley of Hobbiton. He was so very close to home. He could see Bag End from here.

Behind him were his traveling companions: Thorin, Balin, Gandalf, Kíli, and Tauriel. Each of them rode their own pony, though Gandalf and Tauriel sat upon horses instead, steeds that befitted their taller statures.

"It's a lovely place," Tauriel remarked. "One could settle down here." She smiled down at Kíli.

"That is what I plan to do," Bilbo said. "Settle down, and no more adventures for me! I miss my armchair; though my bookshelf is perhaps less grand than the one I had back in Erebor."

"It is time to plant your acorn," Thorin said.

"Yes," Bilbo agreed. He'd packed the acorn in his chest of gold, a more sentimental souvenir of his journeys than the riches he had also acquired. He'd tried to put the Ring he'd found in there, too, but the magic thing was so pretty to look at to be put away. He'd decided to keep it in his pocket. Besides, it was better to have at hand in case he needed to use it.

"Let's go down to Bag End," Gandalf said.

Bilbo nodded and nudged his pony forward. As their mix-matched company rode through town, many hobbits stopped what they were doing to gawk. Bilbo nodded to some of them, his former neighbors. He wasn't sure if they didn't nod back because they'd though he was dead, or because they didn't recognize him.

Bilbo stopped in front of Bag End. He hopped off his pony and strode up to the door. He frowned. It had been painted a different color. And the bench on the porch was not the same one he had owned. Oh dear. It looked like someone else had moved in during the near two years he had been gone.

"This looks a bit...different," Gandalf remarked.

"Yes, wasn't your door green, not blue?" Kíli asked, furrowing his brows.

"And that bench is new," Bilbo concluded. He crossed his arms. "It looks as if I have been presumed dead. My dreadful cousins, the Sackville-Bagginses, must have moved in. This new look reeks of Lobelia's horrible sense of decor."

"That's awful!" Balin exclaimed.

"Looks like your quest to reclaim a homeland isn't over," Tauriel said, smirking.

Thorin snorted in dark amusement. "Well, Master Baggins, you helped us oust Smaug from Erebor. I think it is only fair we help you drive off your relatives." The dwarf king strode forward and knocked on the door.

"Wait—" Bilbo protested, but it was too late for diplomacy. The three dwarves eagerly drew their weapons (really, that was a bit unnecessary, he thought) and waited for the door to open. Bilbo cast a helpless glance up to Gandalf, but the Wizard only chuckled.

"Kíli," Tauriel said hesitantly, "couldn't this be better solved with words—"

"Too late," Bilbo groaned as the door opened.

Lobelia Sackville-Baggins stood in the doorway, taking in the absurd scene: three dwarves, weapons drawn; her presumed-dead cousin whose house she had stolen; an anxious-looking red-haired she-elf; and the Gray Wizard, who looked remarkably unfazed by the whole ordeal.

Naturally, she screamed and fainted dead away. Bilbo sighed. Now this was  _another_ mess to clean up.

Lobelia's husband, Otho, ran to the door to see what was the matter. "Lobelia!" he shouted upon seeing her. He knelt down and cradled her head in his hands. "Are you alright, dear?"

Lobelia stirred. Her eyes fluttered open. "Yes, Otho." Her voice was trembling and full of drama. She lifted an accusing arm and pointed at the dwarves standing guiltily in the open door. "Only these rude intruders frightened me half to death!"

Otho glared up at Kíli, Thorin, and Balin, comically even shorter than they were. The three dwarves looked rather sheepish, and sheathed their weapons.

"Sorry?" Kíli offered, smiling in apology.

"Lobelia, Otho, I apologize for my friends," Bilbo said, pushing past the dwarves. He glared at Thorin. Really—Lobelia was quite a bother, but this had gotten out of hand.

The two hobbits gaped at him. "I...we...uh..." Otho stammered.

"B-Bilbo?" Lobelia exclaimed in disbelief. "But...you're dead!"

"Well,  _presumed_  dead," he said snidely, "as I can see you assumed. By the way, I don't like the new door color."

"Would you get out of Mister Baggins's house?" Thorin asked, folding his arms gruffly. He wore his most stern, kingly expression. Bilbo flashed a glance of gratitude his way.

"This is  _our_  house!" Otho protested. "Bilbo ran off and he's been gone for  _two years_! We've been living here for nearly a year now, you can't just take our home away from us!"

"I'm not dead, though!" Bilbo protested, flinging his hands up in the air. "This place rightfully belongs to me!"

"If you're not dead, where did you go for two years?" Lobelia asked, getting back up to her feet.

"With me," Thorin growled. "I...employed him! On a journey."

"We will vouch for him!" Kíli added.

"Is there a place of law here?" Balin asked. "Where this matter can be settled?"

"There's always the mayor," Bilbo said. "We could go ask her." Mayor Olivianne Proudfoot, if she still was in charge of the Shire after all this time, had a sensible head on her. Surely she would see reason and give him back his possessions.

"We will not leave our house!" Lobelia insisted hotly.

Bilbo glared at her and folded his arms. "We'll see about that."


	19. A Very Fond Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only one more chapter in this story after this. Thank you all so much for your support!

**Part Five: The Shire  
** **Chapter Nineteen: A Very Fond Farewell**

* * *

Though it took a while—an incredibly  _long_  while, he grumbled to himself privately—Bilbo did, eventually, get his house back. The mayor, and the rest of the Shire, were quite shocked to find him still alive after all this time. Before he'd gone to Erebor, Bilbo would have been offended and hurt no one remembered him. Now, with good friends and a world-weariness derived from countless near-death experiences, he was more annoyed at these inconveniences than anything else.

The mayor was reluctant at first to aid Bilbo, but the presence of four armed foreigners and some helpful bribes coming from Thorin's pocket helped to sway her a little. Eventually, she agreed to let Bilbo buy the house back from the Sackville-Bagginses—at an extremely high cost, of course. On his own, Bilbo couldn't have done it, but Thorin promised to pay for it, as he claimed it was his honor-bound duty to return the favor of aid in regaining a home.

Lobelia and Otho were annoyed they had to move out, but now rich enough to to buy a place just as fancy somewhere else. Bilbo fervently hoped their new home would be somewhere very far away from his.

Many of his possessions had been auctioned off to friends and family members. The few who owned up to having them agreed to return them—as long as Bilbo paid for them, of course.

With Thorin's financial aid from Erebor's treasury, Bilbo managed to put his house back in order. He, Balin, Kíli, and Tauriel were very helpful in putting everything back in its proper place.

Gandalf mostly just watched them, or wandered off in the Shire. Mysterious and not entirely helpful, as usual. He was excellent dinner company, but always vanished when it came to washing up. Still, sometimes the old wizard was useful—he was able to to change the color of Bilbo's door back to green simply by tapping at it with his staff, for example.

In a few weeks, Bag End had been put back together. (Well, mostly. He was missing many of his possessions still, including half his silver spoons. He suspected Lobelia there.)

When things settled down, Bilbo finally got around to unpacking the chest of treasures Thorin had given him as his fourteenth share. While doing so, he came across his acorn.

Bilbo picked it up and smiled, rolling it around in his hands. He knew exactly the place to plant this.

He walked out of his room and fetched a spade. He went over to his door, now green again. As he was about to walk out and go plant the acorn, he heard a voice.

"Where are you going, Bilbo?"

It was Thorin. Bilbo turned around, smiling, and lifted up the little acorn. "I'm going to plant my tree."

Thorin smiled, nodding. He was wearing practical traveling clothes, and his hair had been braided back in the elvish style, which Bilbo found amusing. Kíli must have done it, using braids Tauriel had taught him. Thorin's beard, too, was braided, and much longer than the first time Bilbo had met him, he noticed. The great king looked happy, at ease. Much different than the anger-fueled heir that had led the Company to Erebor.

"Would you like to come with me?" Bilbo invited.

"Certainly," Thorin agreed. Bilbo walked through the door, Thorin close behind him.

"Where are you going to plant it?" Thorin asked as they walked down Shire paths.

"I was thinking above my house," Bilbo said. "The hill Bag End is built beneath."

"Won't the roots hurt your roof?" he asked.

"I don't think so," Bilbo said. "The hill is pretty tall."

"Maybe in another hundred years or so," Thorin suggested.

"Hobbits don't have that much time." Bilbo laughed. "Whoever inherits my hobbit hole will have to deal with it."

He led Thorin up the winding path to the top of the hill. When they arrived at a suitable place, he knelt down and began to dig a hole for the acorn.

"Who do you think will inherit your home?" Thorin asked. "You don't have any children."

"Probably the Sackville-Bagginses,  _again_ ," Bilbo said in disgust. "Or maybe another relative. Perhaps I'll find a sensible enough niece or nephew some day, and leave it to them." He shrugged, shaking some dirt off his hand. "That's a long way away, though. I've got fifty years or so left."

Thorin sat down beside him. "How old are you now?"

"Fifty-two."

"Hobbits only live to a hundred? Dwarves can live up to three times that."

Bilbo shrugged again. "We're closer to men than dwarves in life expectancy."

By now, the hole was deep enough. Bilbo offered the acorn to Thorin. "Would you like to do the honors?"

Thorin took the acorn from Bilbo's hand and dropped it in the hole. Then they both started to push the soil back over the nut to fill the hole.

When it was done, Bilbo sat back and stretched his toes, yawning. Thorin crossed his legs, looking out over the bustling people of the Shire.

"We're going to have to leave soon," Thorin said quietly. "It's been wonderful, visiting here, but I am king of Erebor. I need to return home."

Bilbo nodded. "Yes. You and Balin need to return." He sighed. "I'll miss you, though—and Gandalf, and Kíli, and Tauriel. Thank you for accompanying me back home."

"You are welcome, Bilbo," Thorin said. "It was our pleasure."

"At least I'll always have this tree to remind me of my adventure," Bilbo said, patting the ground.

Thorin smiled. "And I'll have my kingdom to remember you by. Without one brave hobbit, none of this could ever have happened."

Bilbo laughed, blushing a little. "Give yourself some credit, Thorin."

"Well, and me, too," the king added, grinning. "I suppose I helped."

* * *

When Bilbo woke the next morning, Gandalf had left, leaving only a friendly note of goodbye.

"This is just like him," Balin said, chuckling after reading the letter left behind.

"Really, he could have said goodbye in person," Bilbo said, shaking his head.

_My dear Bilbo,_  read the note,

_It is with regret that I must leave. I have enjoyed my stay in the Shire, but there are other needs I must attend to. Expect me to stop by every once and awhile, but for now: farewell!_

_G._

"This brings something up," Kíli said. "Tauriel and I...we'd like to go on to Ered Luin. We've stayed here for nearly a month now, and it's been wonderful, but the governor is expecting us soon." Tauriel, standing behind him, nodded.

Bilbo pocketed Gandalf's note. "Well, let's have a party tonight," he suggested. "You can leave tomorrow—with a proper farewell."

"That sounds good," Tauriel said. "Thank you, Mister Baggins—you've been a very gracious host."

"We should be returning to Erebor, as well," Balin said, glancing at Thorin. "I'm sure Prince Fíli will be glad of Thorin's return."

"Yes," Thorin agreed, glancing at Balin. "We ought to go back." He looked around Bag End, smiling wistfully. "I will miss this place, though. I have fond memories of my time here."

* * *

The party that night was magnificent. Each guest ate more than was really necessary, and certainly drank more than any would like to admit, but somehow everyone woke up the next morning feeling satisfied.

Bilbo's guests packed their things and were ready to leave by noon. He stood by the door and smiled, feeling rather emotional.

Kíli embraced him tightly. "Goodbye, Mister Bilbo," he said. "It's been a wonderful time."

Tauriel crouched down to say goodbye as well. Bilbo took her hand and kissed it like a gentleman.

"Farewell, Bilbo," she said. "Thank you for being so kind.  _Na lû e-govaned vîn_."

Bilbo smiled, glad to exchange a few words in Sindarin with this lovely elf. He spoke a fair amount of the elvish language, having learned some while in Rivendell and some while in Erebor. He recognized this phrase:  _Until we meet again_.

" _Savo 'lass a lalaith_ ," he replied;  _have joy and laughter_. They both smiled.

Next, Balin embraced him. "Goodbye, Bilbo," he said, sniffling a little. "I hope to drop by for tea sometime, if possible."

"You're quite welcome here, always," he replied. "That goes for all of you."

The three who had already wished him farewell exited Bag End, mounting their ponies (and horse, in Tauriel's case). Now only Thorin was left.

The dwarf king smiled softly and grasped Bilbo's hands. "Thank you, Bilbo, for all you have done for me and my kingdom. I can never truly repay you."

"You already have, Thorin," he said, smiling in return. "You bought my house back for me, after all. At least you didn't have to kill a dragon!"

"I did have to deal with your relatives." Thorin chuckled, then embraced him tightly. Bilbo hugged him back, burying his face in his shoulder. It hurt to know he would likely never see this wonderful dwarf again, though he parted from him fondly, and not in pain.

They broke apart, and Thorin looked at him affectionately. "Farewell, Master Burglar," he murmured. "And thank you, again, for making my world a merrier place."

"Farewell, Thorin," he whispered in reply. Tears of parting sprang to his eyes. "Farewell."

Thorin smiled at him one last time, then left Bag End, returning at last to his rebuilt kingdom. He was gone.


	20. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. Thank you so, so much to all of my readers, and especially to my commenters. Can you believe that this was originally supposed to be a short, five-chapter self-indulgent fic? It's grown into so much more. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who read and supported me, and a special shoutout to my amazing Beta reader, Buffintruda. This fic has meant a lot to me over the past few months and it means even more that there are people out there who enjoyed it. I love you all! And I'll be back around sometime within the next few months with a new Tolkien fic, probably centered around post-BotFA Tauriel. Thank you!
> 
> For this chapter, I tried to mimic the end of the Hobbit book in what I summarized and some of the dialogue.
> 
> Name meanings:  
> Eliel - daughter of a star (Sindarin)  
> Ása - goddess (Norse)  
> Gonnon - stone (Sindarin)

**Part Five: The Shire  
** **Chapter Twenty: Reunion**

* * *

For years afterward, Bilbo lived quite a happy life in Bag End. He never quite lived down his reputation as a madman, and indeed much of the Shire accounted him as not the kind to invite over for dinner, but in truth, he did not mind much. He began to write a book of his memoirs, and he thought to include some tales of the elves in it as well. He was happy to keep to himself; it was not like he was overly fond of his nosy neighbors and rowdy relatives.

For company, he had the elves: he visited Rivendell often, and met with Gandalf every once and awhile, though never when he expected to.

He was rich now, and liked to indulge himself in fine things—good food, good clothes, good furniture. Bilbo lived quite a comfortable life. He found that his younger nieces and nephews were quite fun to be around, and spent time with them. They loved his wild tales and the presents he gave them, though their parents were less fond of him.

After the dreadful accident killing his nephew Drogo Baggins, Bilbo decided to take in Drogo's son, Frodo, and adopt him as his heir, thus foiling the Sackville-Bagginses schemes to regain Bag End. He grew to be quite fond of Frodo, who was a kindly lad.

Bilbo never told anyone about his magic ring, which he always kept on him, just in case. He was fairly sure Gandalf and Frodo both figured it out, but he rather liked keeping it a mystery to the rest of the Shire.

One autumn evening, while Bilbo was busy writing in his book, there was a knock at the door. He got up to see some unexpected visitors: it was Fíli, now with a much lengthier beard and perhaps a larger belly; and Kíli, with a lengthy beard of his own and numerous rings on his fingers; and his elf wife Tauriel, as unchanged as every, though with perhaps an even brighter light in her eyes. At their feet were three small children, two with dark hair and one with bright red.

"Welcome!" Bilbo exclaimed, holding his arms out wide. "Have you come for tea?"

They all laughed and came inside. The three children were, of course, Kíli and Tauriel's. The eldest, twelve years old, was a sweet little girl with elvish features named Eliel. The second, seven, was a shorter girl with her mother's bright red hair but her father's rounded ears called Ása. The youngest was only one year old, a solemn-eyed little boy named Gonnon. Tauriel held this dark-haired child in her arms.

"How are things in Erebor?" Bilbo asked. "Is Thorin well?"

"Quite," Fíli replied. "The kingdom prospers! We thought to give you a visit. The rest of the Company sends their regards and regrets they are too caught up in things back home to accompany us."

"Uncle sent you a letter," Kíli said, handing it to him. Bilbo took it and put it in his pocket to read later.

"And how is Dale—and Mirkwood?" he inquired, looking to Tauriel.

While braiding Gonnon's hair, she replied, "Dale is growing ever larger, and reaches out to far lands in trade. Thranduil, in Mirkwood, has abolished most of his isolationism and has opened up the forest road again, so that travelers may pass without fear."

"Well, good!" Bilbo exclaimed. "None shall have to go through what we did."

They all laughed, and Bilbo was pleased.

"Did you know?" he said. "I've adopted one of my nephews—Frodo Baggins. He's not much older than Eliel. Perhaps they would like to play."

"We must tell Bofur," Fíli remarked. "He'll send all kinds of toys your way when he finds out you've taken in a child!"

"Children are hard work," Bilbo admitted. "I can barely deal with one, and he's fairly obedient! How do you manage with three?"

"It takes some work," Kíli agreed.

"Where is this Frodo?" Tauriel asked. In the living room, Bilbo could hear the sounds of Eliel and Ása playing with some of his nephew's toys.

"He's out playing with some of the neighborhood children," Bilbo said. "He should be in soon."

Only a few minutes later, the door opened and Frodo walked in. He looked in surprise at Bilbo's guests.

"Frodo, my lad," Bilbo said. "Some friends from Erebor came to visit! I've told you of them before—this is Fíli, Thorin's heir; and Kíli, his brother; and Tauriel, Kíli's wife; and their three children."

"Pleased to meet you!" Frodo said, nodding to each of them. All the grown-ups agreed he was a smart little lad, and Frodo was soon introduced to Ása and Eliel. They began to play together like old friends.

"You all look very well," Bilbo said. "Older, too—well, not Tauriel."

"So do you, old friend," Fíli said with a chuckle.

"Did you know Lake-town has been rebuilt?" Tauriel said. "The place is prosperous, for all Smaug's carcass still rots at the bottom of the Long Lake."

"They say its new Master is so wise with trade that the rivers run with gold." Kíli laughed. "How silly!"

"So the old prophecies came true, in a way," Bilbo remarked.

"Of course," Fíli agreed. "Though they may be saying that only to fulfill the songs; I don't know."

"Well, whatever the truth, I am glad everything turned out to be happy, for all of us," Bilbo said, lighting his pipe. "This world is a merry place to live in, after all."

"So it is!" Kíli agreed, taking the tobacco jar from him. "So it turned out to be."

* * *

**THE END.**


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